


Death in a Tarot Card

by hoziertozier



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Is Trying His Best, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Andrew Minyard is his own Warning, Because Why Not!, Character Study, Exy (All For The Game), Homophobia, Ill add characters as I go - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, canon compliant to the end of atfg, canon typical angsty thoughts, canon typical language, hot girl shit, i didnt want adam to be the only freshman so ive made the crying club into foxes, i dont know what im doing, it's not gonna be canon to call down the hawk at all, lowkey tho, not to nora's content tho, we are fully wildin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoziertozier/pseuds/hoziertozier
Summary: Adam Parrish gets recruited for the PSU Exy team, and learns what it means to be a fox.Featuring Adam Parrish's dramatic inner monologue, Neil Josten's dramatic outer monologue, and David Wymack being exhausted with these goddamn strikers.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 237
Kudos: 339





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey gang, i'm deep in a dual hyperfixation and im making it everyone's problem. I've read all of the trc/aftg crossover fic on this goddamn website and now it's come to the point where i've got to write the content i want to read in the world. i don't know exactly how long this is gonna be, so i'm just gonna put it as finished right now and add chapters as the gods see fit. enjoy this Adam Parrish character study and start to a beautiful fucked up au.
> 
> tldr; i woke up at 6 am, wrote for 3 hours, bon apetit.

It wasn’t that Adam Parrish didn’t get into Harvard; on the contrary, being wait-listed for an ivy league school alone was a feat in and of itself. It meant he was good enough that he was noticed, that they were interested, just not good enough to be immediately accepted. Which was fine, Adam could live with that. He could go to another school for his first year and then reapply to Harvard and MIT next year, and maybe by then he’d have the advantage of a collegiate academic record that would make him more noticeable and likely to actually get fucking accepted. It was fine, he’d worked it all out. He might not even have to wait that long, because they could take him off the waitlist and then he’d be going to Harvard.

A small part of him laughed cruelly at that thought. _‘A Parrish going to Harvard- did you really think that was going to happen? Where does a story like that ever happen except fairytales? You were setting yourself up for failure.’_ Adam quickly hit that part of himself with a mental baseball bat and shoved it to the back annals of his brain; it sounded a bit too much like his father, and he wasn’t keen on listening to anything that man had to say, in real life or in his head. 

That left the question of where Adam would go to college for his first year. On one hand, he needed to get as far from Henrietta as he could (while maintaining a reasonable driving distance for Ronan to visit, ideally). On the other, he needed a full ride if he wanted to save up for the potential of reapplication and eventual transfer. He kept this all in mind as acceptances came into St. Agnes, Virginia Tech and George Mason and Chapel Hill and Duke. He spent hours comparing their proposed financial aid plans, and if he was being honest with himself none of them were giving him what he needed.

Adam was thinking idly about cost effectiveness vs. distance vs. work-study supplements when he felt a hand on his left shoulder. He turned to see his coach, Mr. Pinter.

Some people (Ronan, Gansey, Blue) would question why Adam, with his two jobs and schoolwork and various magical entities that he juggled, would throw in a sport on top of all of that. But Adam was a creature of movement; at Boyd’s he was able to analyze and exercise in moderation, solving puzzles and straining muscles enough to put everything into place, sure, but he needed more. He needed to run, and dodge, and slam into people and hit shit. He needed to feel his muscles scream and lose his head to the quick pace and strategy of the court. That’s why he’d been so drawn to exy; not only was it a bastard sport, something that he felt a connection with, but it was also fast and violent, and despite everything Adam still knew he was a Parrish. He had to make sure to get every potential inside of him out in a way that was controlled, measured, and wouldn’t hurt anyone he actually gave a shit about. 

Some people would also question why the school guidance counselor would coach such a violent sport, to which Mr. Pinter would simply smile and shrug, saying some bullshit about how exercise and intense sport can be therapeutic and cathartic for anyone or something. Mr. Pinter was around the same height as Adam, with sunkissed skin and dark brown hair that he’d run his hands through during practice and Adam only sometimes stared at. 

“Parrish! Sorry, wrong side to talk on, I know-”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“Right, of course. Listen, Adam, are you free to chat after school today?” 

Adam checked the clock. It was almost the end of the day as it was, and a Friday. Adam had no other plans but Gansey giving him a ride to Nino’s, and Gansey could wait a couple minutes.

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Is everything alright?” Mr. Pinter smiled his guidance counselor smile.

“Of course, Adam. There’s just someone I’d like you to meet. Come to my office after class, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Now go on, don’t be late on my account!”

* * *

When Adam entered the guidance counselor’s office, the tattoos on the other man in the room’s forearms immediately caught his attention. They were black flame licking up the man’s toned arms. The man’s face was set into a frown, grave in a way that seemed natural and instinctual to him. Adam could appreciate that in a person, choosing to not hide your exhaustion and anger at the world and leaving it up for everyone to see. It reminded him of Blue. Mr. Pinter greeted him.

“Parrish! I’d like to introduce you to Coach David Wymack, coach of the Palmetto State University Foxes. Coach Wymack, this is Adam Parrish.” 

“Just call me Wymack.”

Adam shook his hand and took the seat Mr. Pinter gestured to. Mr. Pinter sat across from him and clasped his hands together, pausing for a moment to choose his words.

“Parrish, I have to be honest with you: you’re easily one of my best players. You have an intensity on the field that the other boys are hard-pressed to match, and I see how you pull your checks. You have a lot of power. I’m thankful you switched to backliner for the latter half of the season, it improved our game immensely. I think you have a lot of potential to be an even greater player, if you wanted to pursue the sport professionally. So, I sent a cut of you playing to Coach Wymack to nominate you for his team.” Something in Mr. Pinter’s eyes told Adam there was something else, another reason surrounding his nomination, but he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“He’s right about your power,” Wymack cut in, “and about your potential. You’re fast and have a lot of force behind your swings. With the right kind of training you could be a decent striker. College exy is different from high school, though; there’s no pulling punches. You check someone, you fucking go for it, because the other person’s going in just as hard, if not harder. It gets bloody on my court. If you think you can handle that, then I’ve got a contract right here for a 5-year ride on my team.”

Adam stared at the papers Wymack placed on the desk. A million questions raced through his head: Was it a full ride? What was the housing for the athletes? Did they get stipends? Why did he pick Adam? Surely there were better players from better schools, with better backgrounds.

“What’s the tuition?”

“Full ride, if you’d like. Housing is on campus, fully furnished athletes dorms, meal plan included, equipment included, the whole deal. I need a new striker, Adam.”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from Harvard.” It was a lie, but Adam needed to let this man know that he had options. Wymack was going for a hard sell and it made Adam suspicious. The coach simply raised an eyebrow.

“Well damn, princess, didn’t realize the competition I had here. Tell you what, I’m in town for the weekend, staying at the Super8 across from the gas station. Take my number, take the weekend to think about your options, and give me a call.”

He handed Adam a card and stood up. Adam looked in his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. Wymack knew he was lying; he was playing with him, playing along. He saw Adam’s hunger and pride fighting each other, immobilizing him. He had cornered Adam with an offer, then immediately restructured the situation so Adam had all the control again. Adam would’ve been impressed if he weren’t so on edge. He simply took the card and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Great. I look forward to hearing from you. Pinter, Parrish.” He nodded to Mr. Pinter and Adam and took his leave. Mr. Pinter waved him out. Adam stared at Pinter’s desk; Wymack had left the contract behind. It sat there, the dotted line staring at him, almost mocking him. It sang, _‘Here I am, Adam. Here’s your escape. All you have to do is sign me, and you’re free. You’ve sold yourself to bigger entities before, you’re used to being bound, this is nothing. Easy peasy. Just pick up the pen, Adam. Sign your life away, just like you always do.’_

It was a full ride. It was about a five hour drive away. It was too good. Adam snatched up the contract and marched out of the office and into the parking lot. 

There he saw Gansey sitting against the Pig with Henry, both entirely engrossed in the other. Across from them was another car, clearly a rental, where Wymack and two other men stood. Both were much shorter than him, one blond and in all black with an aura reminiscent of Ronan, which really shouldn’t have put Adam at ease, and the other ginger and slightly taller than the other, with some intense scarring on his face. The blond clocked him immediately but said nothing to his companions as Adam marched up and smacked the contract down on the roof of the car. The ginger raised his eyebrows, and Wymack graced him with a single brow raise. He looked at Adam expectantly.

“Why me.” He grit out.

“Because you’re good. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“There’ve got to be better players,” Adam couldn’t stop himself, hating every moment he spoke but unable to prevent the words from leaving his mouth, “ones with better training, better backgrounds. Why me?” 

“I don’t want those players. Better training, better backgrounds, that’s not what the foxes are about.”

“Then what are they about?”

“Second chances.” The ginger said. He was leaning against the car, and when he turned to face Adam, his pale blue eyes were striking. Adam felt like they could see into his very soul. “They’re about being able to make something of yourself on your terms. You don’t have to be the person you were before, if you don’t want to be. As long as you’re a fox, you can try again, and make someone new, even when everyone else has already given up on you.”

Adam inhaled sharply. He was Adam Parrish: trailer trash. Adam Parrish: working three jobs and living in a sorry excuse for an apartment above the local catholic church. Adam Parrish: Henrietta’s forgotten son. Adam Parrish: ambitious bastard.

What would a new Adam Parrish look like, if he had the chance to remake him in his own design?

Adam looked into the ice-blue eyes of the short man in front of him, and saw a hard determination behind them. It was in the loose set of his shoulders but the even set of his mouth; the scars on his face that looked like they hadn’t seen a year yet, but were worn with such casualness it made Adam’s skin ache in certain spots under his shirt. Whatever this man had been through, he’d gotten his second chance through the foxes. He was extending that chance to Adam now.

_‘What do you want, Adam?’_

“Do you have a pen?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam moves in, no thanks to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am an insane person i am an insane person
> 
> you guys gassed me up far too much and now i've already written more than enough for a second chapter. this is madness i love everyone who's commented so, so much!!! 
> 
> also, im taking tamquam/alter idem from Call Down The Hawk because i just think it's the cutest most pretentious shit i ever did read <3

It had taken a lot of convincing to get his friends to let Adam drive down to South Carolina on his own. He and Gansey had argued at length, but Adam wouldn’t budge. It felt like a rite of passage of sorts; he was loading up everything he had left in the apartment above St. Agnes and leaving Henrietta to start his second life. It only seemed right to him that he take this time to truly experience being on his own, just him and the highways and shitty little gas stations. 

Ronan wasn’t exactly thrilled about not going with him, but he understood that Adam needed this. It wasn’t as if Adam was leaving forever; the clothing he’d left in his drawer in Ronan’s dresser was staying right where it was, waiting to be worn whenever Adam came home. What Adam didn’t say was that he didn’t want Ronan going down with him because he didn’t know if he could handle watching Ronan drive away from him. Adam driving away from Ronan was one thing, because Adam knew he was coming back and part of him lived in the Barns; his clothing and his books and his love. But Adam didn’t have a drawer of Ronan to keep with him at college. He had his phone, which Ronan was begrudgingly answering more often, and he had a stolen black hoodie, and he had his memories to keep him company. If he had to watch Ronan leave while he stayed behind for once…. Adam felt like his chest might cave in.

So he’d hit the road the first week of June. It felt surprisingly bittersweet. So many times, Adam had imagined leaving Henrietta as a celebration, finally earning his freedom and being able to breathe without the dust of his home and his past weighing down his lungs. But as he pulled out of the Barns, Adam saw Ronan standing on the porch through his rearview mirror, and he  _ ached _ . He wanted to turn around and run right back into Ronan’s arms, hold him so tight he could crawl into his skin so they would never have to be apart. It was tempting. Adam took a deep, measured breath, and drove on anyways.

* * *

The Hondayota made a valiant effort. He’d made it out of Virginia and all the way through North Carolina before the jitters started. Adam cursed and pulled to the side of the highway. He wasn’t even 25 miles from Palmetto State; surely the shitbox could hold it together for the last leg of the trip. He popped the hood and was immediately faced with a plume of smoke. He coughed and took a step back, waving it away from him. It’d been a nice dream, anyway, thinking that he’d be able to at least make it to the university before having his car succumb to shitbox disease again. But Adam wasn’t a dreamer; that was a title belonging to someone who was 275 miles too far away to help him now. Adam sighed and dialed Wymack.

“Parrish. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Wymack. My car broke down.”

“Goddamn it. Alright, where are you?”

“On the side of I-85, just past the exit for Greenville.”

“Stay there. I’m sending...fuck, I’m sending Andrew and Neil to get you. I’d say I’m sorry in advance, but you’re a fox now. You’re gonna have to deal with them eventually.”

“...Right. Thanks, coach.”

“Be on the lookout for a black maserati going way too fast.” Wymack abruptly hung up.

It was only a 15 minute wait in the South Carolina afternoon heat before a sleek black car slid behind the Hondayota on the side of the highway, which was surprising to Adam seeing as PSU was easily a 30 minute drive from here. Neil smiled good-naturedly at Adam as he exited the car, and helped him move his backpack and 3 boxes into the maserati’s trunk. Andrew got out of the car, but only watched them silently.

“Is that everything?” Neil asked.

“Yeah.” Adam said. “I’ll need to call a towing service when we get into town, but other than that we’re done here.”

“Leave it.” Andrew said. It was the first time Adam had heard him speak. His voice was deeper than he’d expected it to be, and flat. There was an authority about him, both fearless and bored at the same time. Adam thought this guy could be commanding an army and still sound like he was reading from the phonebook. 

“What?”

“I don’t repeat myself.”

“I’m not just abandoning my car on the side of the road. I need it.”

“Calling that a car would be generous.” Adam bristled. Yes, his car was a piece of shit, but it was his piece of shit, and he hadn’t poured his blood sweat and tears into keeping it running just to leave it on the side of the road in South Carolina.

“It’s my car. How the hell am I supposed to get around if I just leave it?”

“Andrew and I could drive you.” Neil piped in. Both men looked sharply at him. Neil had a mild look on his face, feigning casualness, but the hint of a dangerous smirk danced up the edge of his lips. Adam glanced at Andrew, whose face remained impassive, but Adam swore he saw his eyes narrow slightly. It seemed like the two men were having an entire conversation in their held stares, and Adam felt a sudden pang of homesickness for Ronan. Finally, Andrew huffed and shook his head.

“You’re driving him. I’m not playing chauffeur.” Adam frowned. He didn’t like being talked about like he wasn’t there.

“I didn’t say I’d need you guys to drive me anywhere.” He said decisively. “I have a car. I appreciate the offer, but it’s fine. I can fix it up when it gets to campus. I’d really just like a ride to the dorm now.”

All eyes turned to him, and Adam could tell he was being dissected. Andrew’s stare was a needle, prodding him, searching for an entry point where he could dive in and figure out all his secrets. Adam rolled his shoulders back and held Andrew’s stare, envisioning a protective bubble around himself to keep him out of his head. Adam didn’t need anyone trying to figure him out here; he was known enough back home. Andrew drummed his fingers on the roof of the maserati and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“Interesting.” He said, and swung himself back into the car. Adam’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t sure what Andrew was calling interesting, but he had the sinking feeling it wasn’t anything he wanted someone to be interested in. 

“Adam.” Adam jumped slightly. Neil was halfway into the passenger seat; Adam had gotten lost in his thoughts. Neil nodded his head into the car. “Let’s go.”

Adam got in the car.

* * *

One of Adam’s roommates was already in their dorm, and Adam nearly did a double take. He looked exactly like Andrew, save for his clothing, which actually contained colors other than black, and his face, which seemed to openly display emotion. For example, Adam could see open confusion on his face at the moment. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asked. Adam was confused, too. Had this guy not been told he would be moving in?

“Adam Parrish. I’m your new roommate.” The other man raised an eyebrow, and looked like he was about to say something before Neil came in behind Adam with his last boxes. Adam watched as the Andrew clone’s eyes shifted to Neil and hardened, his face contorting with disdain. Adam glanced behind him to see Neil with that mild look on his face again, only this time the danger behind it wasn’t playful in the slightest.

“Aaron.” Neil said.

“Josten.” Aaron sneered. Neil turned his attention fully towards Adam.

“Where do you want these?”

“Bottom bunk is mine.” Aaron called as Adam and Neil brought his things into the bedroom. Adam decided the top bunk was fine, and also that he didn’t want to know whatever Neil and Aaron’s deal was.

Once he was unpacked, Adam sent Ronan off a message.

_ Made it in. The shitbox died. I’m exhausted. _

_ shit. how did u get there? _

_ A couple of teammates picked me up. It’s getting towed into town. They tried to convince me to just abandon it. _

_ not a bad idea _

_ Fuck you _

_ bit 2 far away 4 that rn _

_ Fuck off. I don’t know why I miss you already. _

_ ur guess is as good as mine _

_ i miss u too _

_ I need to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. Tamquam _

_ alter idem _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Dan tries to introduce all the new Foxes to each other. It goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my inability to sleep is yalls gain! also, it didnt feel right for adam to be the only new recruit, so i pilfered the names of the members of adam's crying club in cdth and made some fun new friends. they're not really gonna be central to the plot or anything, but i feel like it takes pressure off of adam to be the only rookie for the foxes to focus on. plus, there's jack. we all love to hate jack.
> 
> heads up, there's a little transphobia and use of the f slur near the end of the chapter because it's the foxes and we love to have fun!

By June 9th, all the returning players as well as five other freshmen moved into Fox Tower. Adam met his other roommate, a tall man named Matt with spiked hair reminiscent of Henry Cheng, when he was sent to collect him for some “team-building exercises.” Matt smiled weakly yet fondly at the words, and explained further as he and Adam walked down to the tower’s basement.

“It’s not that I don’t trust her judgement,” Matt began, “because Dan is brilliant. I know she knows what she’s doing. But we’ve got a lot of rookies this year, and the old crowd...doesn’t always mesh well, y’know?”

Adam nodded when Matt looked over to him. He got it just fine; he wasn’t exactly the type to “mesh well,” either. 

The basement was mostly barren, with cold cement and brick walls. Folding chairs were stacked along the sides, though 15 chairs were set up in a wide circle. Adam spotted Neil and Andrew sitting down, a guy with a tattoo on his face on Andrew’s other side who Adam recognized as Kevin Day, then Aaron and some very excited guy talking animatedly to a tall blonde girl. She was mesmerizing in the way supermodels were, or giant venomous snakes. Next to her was a shorter woman with platinum blonde hair, rainbow dipped on the ends. Matt went ahead to sit a seat away from her, supposedly saving the spot for someone. Adam slid into the chair on the other side of Neil, and immediately felt eyes on him. He looked at Neil, who’d only quirked an amused eyebrow at him.

“This seat taken?” Adam asked.

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Neil said, his mouth curling into a smirk. Adam watched as Matt and Neil made eye contact from across the circle; Matt’s eyes darted to Adam and back to Neil and he raised his hands in the universal gesture of, _’What the fuck is he doing?’,_ to which Neil responded with a shrug, which Adam took to mean, ‘ _Don’t worry about it.’_ Kevin leaned forward from the other side of Andrew and looked like he was about to say something to Adam when a strong voice cut in. Adam had never been more thankful for the interruption of what was sure to be some truly soul-crushing small talk. Now that Adam could see him more clearly, Kevin Day seemed handsome in a way similar to Gansey, meaning that Adam felt an underlying urge to punch him in the face.

“ALRIGHT FOXES! ASSES IN CHAIRS!” A woman said. She was of average height, dark skinned with hair buzzed almost as short as Ronan’s. She stood in front of the chair Matt had saved and clapped her hands.

“Listen up, gang. First, I wanna welcome the rookies to the team. Six…is a lot, but new ERC rules meant we had a lot of spots to fill. I’m your captain, Dan Wilds, and your vice captain is Neil Josten over there.” Dan pointed to Neil, an affectionate look taking over her face as she said the words ‘vice captain’. Neil gave an awkward smile and a short wave, obviously not expecting to be called out. “It’s gonna be one hell of an adjustment period as we all learn to play with each other. But as soon as you signed that dotted line, you became a Fox, which means we’re a team now. We work together. We talk things out. We save our personal issues for when we’re outside the court, and use whatever aggression those issues cause to wipe the floor with our opponents. Right?”

A few people whooped and cheered at the promise of violence. Adam could see why Dan was the captain. Her presence was commanding, and she spoke with a conviction that things would work out. Adam was half tempted to believe her. 

For the icebreaker, the rookies had to say their name, their home state, and their sign. Adam fought to not roll his eyes; he may be a psychic, but he wouldn’t give any credence to astrology.

Adam only half paid attention. There was Fletcher from Florida, a blond bro-type who was a Libra (“Me too!” waved Rainbow Dip-Dye Girl); Jack from Massachusetts, who looked like he was trying so hard not to say a slur that he might get a hernia (and was an Aries); Benjamin (“Call me Benjy!”) from Montana, both taller and darker than Matt and looked like he’d apologize to a chair for bumping into it (a Taurus, apparently); Eliot from New York, a nonbinary Sagittarius with dark blue hair and a pleasant smile (“They/Them pronouns, please and thanks!”); and Gillian from Indiana, sitting on the other side of Adam. Her scowl had not wavered in all the time they were down here.

“I don’t know what my fucking sign is.” She said. It didn’t sound much like she cared, either. The supermodel across the circle sat up.

“When’s your birthday?” She asked. 

“July 25th.”

“Leo.” The supermodel slumped back into her chair. Matt spoke up, seemingly trying to plug some energy into the quickly lagging meet-and-greet.

“Hey, me too! Leo twins!” He smiled widely at Gillian, but the efficiency with which she iced him out was impressive, if Adam was being honest. Adam wasn’t going to just leave Matt burnt like that, though.

“Adam Parrish, Virginia. I’m a Cancer.” 

“Further proof that all Cancers are hot.” The supermodel said as she winked at him. Adam felt the tips of his ears heat up. 

It was still strange to think of himself as being desirable at all. Sometimes it felt like Ronan was a fluke; just a strange enough person himself to find the strangeness of Adam attractive. Adam was ruddy, blond only by technicality and tan by necessity of working in the sun. He still struggled to look in the mirror and see more than dust and dirt in his freckles, more than the crook of his nose where it had been broken on more than one occasion. Underneath Ronan’s fingertips, though, he’d begun to appreciate the bumps and blemishes of his body. He appreciated that Ronan appreciated them, at least. 

Neil spoke next, prompted by Dan to start the upperclassmen introductions. He squirmed slightly in his spot next to Adam. That awkward smile was back. Adam wondered why he was vice captain, if he seemed to hate speaking to everyone so much.

“Uh, I’m Neil. I’m from Arizona. Allison, what did you say my sign was?” The supermodel- Allison, Adam told himself -made to speak before someone interrupted.

“I thought you were from Baltimore. Isn’t that in Maryland?”

Adam felt all the air leave the room. Neil froze beside him, and Adam followed his gaze across the circle to Jack. Jack had a square jaw, close cropped dark hair, and eyes that were more grey than blue. He slouched in his chair, arms folded, and was looking at Neil with a mix of malice and amusement that made Adam’s stomach turn.

Adam wasn’t stupid. As soon as he’d accepted the position, he and Gansey had spent an evening researching everything they could about the Palmetto State Exy Team. At first, he was furious with the team’s recruitment requirements; he wasn’t broken, some kind of addict or basket case that needed a halfway house. All he needed was an impressive college degree, a nice suit, and a fresh start in a place where nobody knew what a Parrish was. Adam hadn’t been unknowable for a while now, but he still at least wanted to be known on his own terms.

It wasn’t long till they’d found all the articles about the rookie striker’s troubled past. Gansey’d had to take a walk around the Barns when they’d looked up just what exactly the Butcher of Baltimore was known for. It had certainly put Neil’s words to him in the parking lot in a new light. _‘You don’t have to be the person you were before, if you don’t want to be. As long as you’re a fox, you can try again, and make someone new.’_ Neil had clawed his way out of his father’s shadow and the grave that had been seemingly dug for him at birth, and was now free to live his life as the person he chose. As exceedingly fucked up as the whole situation was, Adam admired Neil’s determination to live. It felt familiar, and it made something in Adam's chest settle.

“I said I was from Arizona.” Neil’s voice was deceptively even, but Adam heard the warning in his low tone. Jack, evidently, did not.

“See, that’s not what I read. You’re our vice captain, right? What kind of example does it set for the rest of us when you lie to our faces?”

It happened almost too fast for Adam to see. One moment there was complete silence as the rest of the foxes marveled in horror at the audacity of this bitch; the next, Andrew was in the middle of the circle being held back by three people with surprising difficulty, considering how small he was. Adam noticed a flash of light in Andrew’s hand and felt his blood run cold. A couple thoughts crossed his mind all at once.

_Andrew has a knife._

_Andrew would use that knife on a teammate._

_Andrew would use that knife for Neil._

* * *

It went like this: Andrew left the meeting, followed by Neil and Kevin, and Aaron and Nicky, the twins' cousin, soon after. The supermodel’s name was Allison, and she said the words as though they could fly from her mouth and slit Jack’s throat if only she could fit enough disdain into them. Rainbow Dip-Dye was named Renee, and after Dan wearily informed the freshmen of a mandatory cookout at the team nurse Abby’s house and released them, she made a beeline for Adam. She had a calm, light air about her, and the way she walked reminded Adam of Persephone. A silver chain shined around her neck, ending in a cross

“So, Adam, how are you settling in? You’re rooming with Matt and Aaron next door to me, correct?”

“Yeah,” Adam nodded, “It’s been alright? I’m unpacked, just slept the rest of the day after the drive down.”

“Oh, was it a long one?”

“About five hours, so not great. My car gave out a couple miles from town, so Neil and Andrew actually drove me the rest of the way.” As soon as he mentioned the other men, Adam saw the benign look of friendliness on her face sharpen. _So,_ Adam thought, _this wasn’t just a courtesy call._

“That was kind of them. Did you all talk much?”

“Not really. I’d already met them when Wymack came to recruit me, so we were at least familiar with each other.”

“I see. What do you think of them?” There was the prying. Adam wasn’t sure what she wanted, so he wasn’t sure what to give to her. He chose his words carefully.

“They’re alright. Neil’s friendly enough. Andrew tried to convince me to abandon my car and said calling it a car would be generous, so there’s that.” Renee nodded.

“Hm.”

“He’s not exactly wrong about it,” Adam added, “But it’s still my car, so I told him to drop it.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t say anything else?” The way she asked it was casual enough, but Adam knew she was looking for something. He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. 

“He just called me interesting and got in his car. We didn’t talk on the drive back.” 

A small smile grew on Renee’s face, and Adam suddenly felt like he’d both given away too much and passed some sort of test.

“Andrew’s a fast driver, I’m sure it didn’t take you long to get into town. I’m glad he and Neil were there for you.”

Something about that sentence seemed loaded, but Adam couldn’t place it. Renee was a hard read, all peaceful gazes and breezy statements. 

“Sure.” He said, and stood up to leave. Renee took a step back to allow him the movement.

“Well, you know where I am if you ever need anything or just want to talk. Feel free to stop by any time.”

“Sure.” He repeated. She smiled and gave him a slight nod before turning away. That conversation was over. Adam made to leave, another caught his attention.

“So, like, what’s your deal, anyway?” That was Fletcher. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Hm, see, I’m not quite a boy or a girl, but more like a graffiti covered car abandoned on the side of the road that people think is indicative of society’s collapse, but if that car was put on a stage in front of a bunch of rich people they'd probably consider it high art.” That was Eliot.

“...What?” 

“You can just call me a faggot, if that’d be easier for you.” Eliot suggested. Adam snorted softly as Fletcher spluttered and tripped over himself to try and explain how he would _never_ use that word, he was an _ally_.

“Eliot, Gillian,” Dan called, “I wanted to check in with you guys real quick. Are you both okay with your rooming assignment?”

“How do you mean?” Eliot asked.

“Just, I know you’re nonbinary, and you’re rooming with a girl, so if there’s an issue with that or any worries-”

“I’m not _worried_ about rooming with Eliot.” Gillian bit back. “I’m a fucking lesbian. If anything, this is less distracting. I’m into girls, not...whatever the hell it is they have going on.”

“I feel like you just called me a slur but, like, in the best way possible.” Eliot said gleefully. “Wanna go do a face mask?”

Adam shook his head and exited the basement. This was going to be a long year, he could already tell. He walked out of the building for some fresh air and called Ronan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam: these people all seem extremely rude and unstable  
> Adam: one had a knife  
> Ronan: what a bunch of assholes  
> Ronan: tell me more right now


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Abby's is eventful as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went in an entirely different direction than i expected it to, but as i was writing i found that it really couldn't have gone any other way. this update pattern i'm establishing is so ridiculous, but i cant stop writing for this! i have so many ideas! and i love to talk, so if anyone wants to shoot me a message over tumblr my url is broadwaypatroclus <3
> 
> tw for depiction of a character having a panic attack

Abby Winfield, Adam soon found, was a force to be reckoned with. Her house was only one story and at 7pm became packed to the gills with Foxes. It was a bit much for Adam; he’d never been a fan of parties, or talking, or alcohol, and there seemed to be not much else to do here besides that. There was, however, a large meal being prepared in the kitchen, and Adam assigned himself to sous-chef duty at first chance. He wasn’t expecting it to be easy, but once Abby saw he wasn’t about to budge and rejoin the party, she set him to work: chop this, mix that, no don’t touch that it needs to set, no don’t throw that spice in there, what are you, a philistine? The ‘yes, ma’am’s streamed naturally from him, and Adam smiled as he thought of Maura Sargent and Calla Johnson, co-commanders of the war on dinner waged every night at 300 Fox Way. It doesn’t escape his notice, the name of the street and the name of his new team, but he doesn’t think too hard on it. He’s known there’s no such thing as a pure coincidence for a while now; he’d call Maura about it later.

Not long after Adam gets to work, Renee, Andrew, and Neil join him in the kitchen.  _ Maybe it’s more of an ‘Andrew and Neil’ than an ‘Andrew, and Neil’ situation,  _ he thought. It’d only been a few days, but he’d been hard pressed to catch a glimpse of one of the two men without the other. Renee smiled warmly at Abby.

“Anything we can do to help in here, Abby?” Renee asked.

“In a surprising change of pace, there is not! If Adam here plays as efficiently as he cooks, I’m looking forward to the season.” Abby smiled over her shoulder from where she was whisking something that needs to be diligently whisked, and Adam felt his ears heat up.

“It’s nothing, really,” He demurred, “I’m just good at following instructions.”

“Have you had something to drink yet, Adam?” Renee asked. “There’s a few different types of beer in the fridge.”

Adam shook his head, eyes trained on the knife in his hand and the pile of carrots on the cutting board in front of him. “No thanks. I don’t drink. A water would be nice, though, if you’re offering.”

“Conscientious objector, or did your daddy have one too many in the evenings?” The monotone cut through him like ice, and Adam nearly chopped the tip of his finger off with the force he threw down the knife. The inquiry had caught him off guard. He fought to keep his face even as his blood rushed in his ear. He heard Abby scold Andrew behind him.

“Andrew, that’s none-”

“It’s fine, Abby.” Adam said as turned right to face where Andrew was leaning languidly against the fridge, staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Neil purse his lips. Adam met Andrew’s stare, picturing a bubble around himself to protect his energy and his nerve. “It’s none of your business why I don’t drink. I just don’t.”

“No.” Andrew said simply.

“What?”

“I said what I said. You think it is none of my business. You are wrong.”

“I’m not, actually. But thanks for the concern. I’m really feeling that big fox welcome.” Adam decided to press his luck and take his eyes off of Andrew, turning his attention to Renee, who was watching them intently with a cold water bottle in her hand. Something in Adam’s body screamed that this was a terrible idea, but he shoved that down. He wasn’t going to let Andrew think he was afraid of him. Adam had once been possessed by an eldritch demon from the dawn of time that tried to make him kill his boyfriend, a boyfriend whom he regularly slept next to and would sometimes bring violent creatures out of his dreams and into their bed, which was always an invigorating way to wake up. A five foot blond kid with some chip on his shoulder was the least of his concerns. 

This was a mistake.

All at once Adam was yanked by his shirt collar until he had no choice but to be face to face with Andrew. The other man’s brown eyes were nearly black in the shadow of the fluorescent kitchen lighting, and Adam suddenly felt very small again.

“Don’t mistake this for concern.” Andrew lowed. “This is just the case review.” He released Adam’s collar.

Adam stumbled backwards. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus; the lights were too bright, the walls were too yellow, his heartbeat too fast. He swiftly turned and made his way down the hall to the front door, and stepped onto the porch. Adam leaned his forearms onto the railing and bowed his head. His legs were shaky, but he didn’t want to sit down. He could barely think. A hand on his left shoulder startled him enough that he jumped violently; he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Nicky stood stock still, hands up in front of him.

“Whoa, easy, it’s just me, I thought I made enough noise-”

“No it’s- I’m deaf. On my left side.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll, uh, make sure I come from the right next time?” Nicky said meekly. Adam just stared at him. Nicky sighed.

“I was sent to check on you. You kind of busted ass out of there.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nicky’s face screwed up. “What are you sorry for?”

_ I’m sorry I talked back. _

_ I’m sorry I broke eye contact. _

_ I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to stand back up without someone else’s help. _

Adam lost track of where Andrew’s hand ended and his father’s fist began.

“Oooookay, okay, we’re sitting down now, easy, there ya go, that’s it, Adam, okay look at me, can you look at me Adam?”

Adam felt like he was floating, but allowed his eyes to follow Nicky’s voice. He had big, warm brown eyes, and smiled widely at him.

“Good, okay, now, um, oh shit, what order does he go in? Oh! Okay Adam, can you name five things you can see right now?” Adam’s eyes pulled away from Nicky, drifting a little unsteadily.

“...The wall. The door. The rocking chair. The windchimes. Trees.”

“Okay, great, awesome. Now name four things you can feel.” Adam took a deep breath.

“The wind, on my ear. The wood. My jeans. The fabric of my shirt.”

“Good. What about three things you can hear?” Adam closed his eyes.

“The windchimes again. There are birds somewhere to the right. People are laughing inside.”

“Yeah. Can you give me two things you can smell?” Adam inhaled slowly.

“The gravy in Abby’s kitchen, and ozone. I think it’s gonna rain soon.”

“And one thing you can taste?” Adam furrowed his eyebrows.

“...My spit?” Nicky laughed, and Adam opened his eyes. He didn’t know when his breathing evened out, but the world felt stable again. He still felt winded, though, and leaned his head back onto the porch railing. He didn’t remember when they’d sat down.

Nicky sat with him on the front porch in silence for only a few seconds before words burst out of him.

“I used to get them a lot.” He said. “Panic attacks, I mean. I got them all the time when I first moved to Germany, but my- but my boyfriend helped me through them.” He seemed almost nervous, like he was trying to play it casual but also remaining vigilant for Adam’s reaction. Adam simply looked at him and nodded.

“Have you had panic attacks before?”  _ Probably _ , Adam thought.

“No,” Adam said, “But my boyfriend gets them, sometimes. We just, we do something different, to bring him out of it. Thanks.” Nicky’s eyebrows jumped up.

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” There was a split second of stillness before Nicky exploded and threw his arms around Adam.

“Oh. My. God! What’s his name? What’s he like? Is he handsome? You’ve gotta tell me  _ everything, _ it’s basically the law.” Adam huffed a laugh and patted Nicky’s arm.

“His name is Ronan. We went to high school together. He dropped out and became a farmer. He has a buzzcut, a giant back tattoo and only wears black. He’s kind of an asshole.” Adam couldn’t help but smile ruefully at the end. Being held by Nicky, as unexpected as it was, was nice right now, but he could imagine how Ronan’s arms felt around him, and he found he’d much prefer that any day of the week. Nicky blinked at him a few times.

“...Okay, so are you gonna actually tell me about him, or…?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Did I mention he’s 6’2 and has a pet raven?” 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I sincerely wish I was.” Adam’s grin was lopsided and sunny. “He’s impossible.”

“Holy shit. This is amazing. I want to know everything about this gay, goth farmer with a bird. I want to read books about him. A trilogy, even. Did you say 6’2?”

Before Adam could respond, the porch door opened. 

“Nicky, dinner’s- Jesus Christ, get off the new kid, for fuck’s sake, Nicky.” Aaron snapped.

“I’m hugging him! It’s a hug, we’re  _ friends _ , Aaron, we have an  _ inseparable bond!”  _ Nicky defended himself. Aaron looked less than impressed.

“You literally met him today.”

“And if anything were to happen to him I would kill everyone on this team and then myself.” Aaron rolled his eyes and slipped back into the house.

“Don’t say memes out loud. It sounds stupid. I’m not saving you a seat.” He called back.

Nicky stood and extended his hand to Adam with a big smile.

“Ready to go back inside?”

Adam looked from Nicky’s face to his hand. He was perfectly capable of standing on his own. He clasped Nicky’s forearm and allowed himself the extra leverage to get up.

“Lead the way.” Adam said, dusting himself off.

As they closed the door behind them and slid into two open chairs beside Allison, a steady drizzle tap danced on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this: okay, so Neil and Andrew are gonna take to Adam immediately and-  
> Nicky: actually, this is my son now  
> me, furiously rewriting my plot notes: yes sir absolutely sir whatever you say-
> 
> also not me writing that parallel about Adam letting people help him stand up and not realizing it until my editing read through????? holy shit that bitchslapped me. who put that there. i think i just hurt myself emotionally. anyways next chapter is probably gonna be about the first practice, so much fun and absolutely no violence or slurs to be expected! haha!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i titled the rough draft for this "the game this is supposed to be all for, allegedly"
> 
> i am LOVING all of your comments!! this is so fun to write and yall reactions are part of it!!!
> 
> btw would anyone be interested in the playlist i made for this fic? lemme know!
> 
> *tw for descriptions of Adam's scars and referenced child abuse! fuck Robert Parrish squad!*

Adam arrived at the court as early as he could due to his nerves, walking up to the doors at the same time Wymack was unlocking him. Wymack side eyed him, grunted, and directed him to the locker room. 

“You’re number thirteen. Orange uniforms are practice and home games, white are away. If you’re gonna come early, you’re gonna get the gear out for practice. Go.”

Adam was surprised to see his locker already had his uniforms in it. He held the orange jersey in his hands, feeling the cotton under his fingers.  _ Parrish, 13.  _ He changed quickly and helped Wymack take out the stick rack and balls while the rest of the team filtered in. 

The first practice was a shitshow. 

For one thing, Fletcher, an offensive dealer, couldn’t seem to make up his mind on who to pass the ball. He was strong, but not enough to make up for his poor aim. Gillian seemed more interested in checking people into the sideboards than actually playing defense. Benjy had a large presence that helped him cover his mark, but any complicated footwork had him tripping over his own feet. Jack seemed to be allergic to passing; he’d rather try a shot at goal from the other end of the court than send it down the line to someone who’d have a better chance at actually scoring. It was driving Kevin and Neil insane, but as much as they snapped at him to just pass the ball, Jack just got angrier and more selfish. Eliot was good in goal, but became eerily quiet and unresponsive as soon as they stepped on the court. 

It was all Adam could do to keep up with them all. He tried to keep an eye on the whole court and anticipate the plays, but the foxes’ style was so chaotic that he ended up feeling more and more lost. Andrew blocked shot after shot of his with what seemed like barely any effort, and after a particularly frustrating block Adam was shoved hard.

“What the fuck was that?” Kevin snapped. “I was telling you to pass to me. Are you fucking deaf?”

Adam stared blankly at him.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes,” Adam lowed, “I’m deaf, in my left ear. If you’re not loud enough that my right side can catch it, then I’m not going to hear you. Stay on my right if it matters so much.”

Kevin looked thoroughly stricken, and Adam could feel eyes on him from all over the court. They weighed on him. He wanted to curl in on himself and shuffle out of their gaze; he wanted to puff out his chest and dare anyone to ask the damned question,  _ What happened?  _ He didn’t need to though, as he watched Kevin roll his shoulders back and look him dead in the eyes. 

There was no pity there that Adam could find. No curiosity and no anger, either. Adam could read Kevin’s expression plainly:  _ I don’t care.  _ It wasn’t unfriendly, but simply said,  _ It doesn’t matter what happened to you, what you can or can’t do. You’re here, and no one can question that.  _

“Try to keep to the right side of the court, if you can.” Kevin ordered. “If I’m going to be making the effort to reach you, you’ve got to make the effort to hear me.”

Adam nodded. Kevin nodded back, then shouted down the court, “Reset the play!”

Adam could still feel the goalie’s eyes heavy on his back as he walked back to his starting position.

* * *

The cool of the locker room air conditioning was a blessed kiss on Adam’s skin. His legs felt like lead as they carried him to his locker. No one was particularly happy with the way practice had gone, and they were all feeling the exhaustion and relief at it being over. Sure, they’d do it all over again in a couple hours, but at least that would be the start of actual training instead of this fucked up gauging of their abilities. Adam took a deep breath and tore his jersey off over his head. He needed a shower ten minutes ago.

“Fuck, Parrish, what the hell is up with your back?” It was Jack. Adam froze. No one had made any comment on his scars at Aglionby, mostly because no one cared enough to look. An unspoken rule of an all-boys school: you don’t look at the other boys too long. He’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Not everyone was going to just look away.

Adam wasn’t covered in scars, but he knew where each of his were and could navigate them like the roads of Henrietta in his mind. Start at the right shoulder for cigarette burns, both sides because an ashtray was whatever was available to his father’s hand. Take a hard left down the back to run into the beer bottle of age 7, take a hop and a skip across the spine for the beer bottle of age 12, and make a right for the grand line of the beer bottle of age 16. Curve back around to the front, and there wasn’t much aside from a few more cigarette burns on his upper chest and some mottled skin where some broken ribs hadn’t healed right and had needed surgery to set right. Adam wasn’t ashamed of his scars. They were proof that he’d lived, he’d survived, and he’d gotten out. But that didn’t mean he wanted everyone to point them out and ask about them. 

“Jack,” Matt chastised, “You don’t just ask someone about their scars, man.”

“Just because you treat Josten with kid gloves doesn’t mean I have to do the same. Look, he’s going to change in the stalls. Hey, Parrish, come on, where’d you get those? In a fight?” Jack jeered. “Turn around, I bet your chest is even more fucked up.”

Adam heard something like cloth being thrown, and what sounded like Nicky gasp.

“ _ Neil… _ ”

Turning around, he took in the scene behind him. The guys were all frozen around the locker room. Jack was holding a jersey that had been thrown at him, and was blatantly staring across the locker room at Neil, who was shirtless and coldly staring back. Adam recognized the shape of an iron clear on his shoulder, and tried to focus on that rather than scan the plethora of cuts and burns up and down Neil’s torso.

Neil had total command of the room. He walked evenly to his locker, a few down from Adam. He met Adam’s eyes and nodded to him once, a hard resolute look that caused Adam to quickly close his mouth- he hadn’t realized his jaw had dropped. He nodded once back, and watched as Neil shucked off his shorts, threw them into his locker, and walked back to the showers. He had more scars on his legs, but Adam really tried not to check his vice captain out as he walked bare-ass out of the room. The silence was deafening.

“If that’s done,” Kevin forced out; he looked a little sick, “We still all need to shower and have a post-practice meeting. Get moving.”

* * *

The huddle was mostly Wymack going over their practice schedule for the summer and how it would change once classes started up. There was also the side note about mandatory therapy, which Adam was not aware was something he would have to be doing and was somewhat obviously less-than-thrilled about.

_ (“Wipe that look off your face, Parrish, I’m not asking you to tell her your life story. You don’t even have to say anything during your sessions, god knows half this team already doesn’t…”) _

They were coordinating rides back to the tower when Adam’s phone began to obnoxiously ring, and Adam deeply regretted letting Ronan change it to the Murder Squash song. All eyes turned to him.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is that?” Allison said, disgusted. Renee was wincing as politely as she could beside her. 

“I think it’s...music?” Benjy supplied. He looked as though he was trying to place the words, the artist, the genre,  _ anything _ , but coming up completely empty.

“What is this, fucking noisecore?” Aaron said, echoing Allison’s distaste.

“Answer your fucking phone, Parrish!” Kevin snapped. Adam was fumbling between it, his bag, and the door handle. Matt swooped over to open the door for him, glancing down to see the ‘Ro <3’ that took up the screen. Adam nodded his appreciation and swiftly walked down the hall, shifting his bag onto his shoulder and his phone to his ear.

“Hey Ro, sorry, practice just got out.”

_ “Make me wait six rings again and see where you sleep when you come back here, asshole.” _

Adam laughed. “I’m sure Opal wouldn’t mind me crashing in Matthew’s room for a while, she barely uses it anyways.”

_ “Bold of you to assume I’d let you into the house.” _

“You can’t lock the entire Barns down just because you’re mad at me.”

_ “Who said I was mad? Maybe I just think it’d be funny.” _

Adam sighed. “How was your morning?”

_ “Same old, picking dream eggs out from dream chickens dream asses, tossing out feed, making sure Opal didn’t chew through any of the fence posts yesterday.” _

“Did she?”

_ “Yeah, north-west corner. I’m gonna file her fucking teeth down, or dream up a mouth gaurd for her.” _

“That might not be such a bad idea. I doubt you’d get it in her mouth unscathed, though.”

_ “If she bites me I’ll bite her back, we’ve already established this.” _

“Please don’t bite each other. Tell her I said that.”

_ “If she decides to show up.She’s been throwing a fucking tantrum since you left. Yesterday was a lot of screaming.” _

Adam’s heart began to ache. “I’m sorry. How’d you get her to stop?”

_ “Don’t fucking apologize, she’s the one being unreasonable. I took her for a drive so she could spend some time in Lindenmere, have some dream logic to distract her until she wants to be civilized again.” _

“And you’re the leading expert on acting civilized.”

_ “You’re goddamn right, I am.” _

Adam laughed again. God, he’d missed hearing Ronan’s voice.

_ “How was practice? This was the first, right?” _

“Yeah. It was...eventful.”

_ “That’s a funny way of saying ‘awful’.” _

“I missed a pass.”

_ “So?” _

“Someone asked me if I was deaf.”

_ “I’ll fucking kill them.” _

“It’s fine, Ro, it just...wasn’t exactly how I was planning on telling them.”

_ “And how the fuck were you going to tell them?” _

“...It was a work in progress, but I knew I was gonna make a plan.”

_ “You’re so full of shit.” _

“Fuck off. It’s just...weird. There’s all these people that are supposed to be my teammates, but half of them look like they’d rather die than talk to anyone, and at least two people hate me already.”

_ “How the hell do you know that?” _

“I don’t wanna talk about it, I just know, okay?”

_ “Would you tell me if you were in trouble?” _

“Of course, Ronan. I’m fine, though, it’s probably harmless, or it’ll at least smooth over in, like, a week.” Adam didn’t like lying to Ronan, but he didn’t need him coming guns blazing down to Palmetto. Adam could handle whatever Andrew’s issue with him was. Plus, he had a good feeling about at least some of his teammates.

_ “Fine.”  _

“Did I tell you one of my teammates is gay? He told me about his boyfriend, so I told him a little bit about you.”

_ “What did you say?” _

“That you were a gay, goth farmer with a pet raven and a giant back tattoo. He didn’t believe me at first. He’s absolutely fascinated by your existence, it’s pretty funny.”

_ “That’s the shittiest description of me I’ve ever heard. You didn’t even mention my massive cock.” _

“I’m not gonna lie to Nicky like that, he’s nice.”

_ “Fuck you, Parrish.” _

“Gonna have to take a raincheck on that, Lynch.”

_ “...” _

“...”

_ “I miss you.” _

“I miss you too. I’ll be home for the break in November.”

_ “That’s in five fucking months.” _

“I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can drive up sometime sooner.”

_ “Shut up. I could go down there, you know.” _

“I mean, you  _ could, _ but you don’t have to-”

_ “Shut up. What the fuck was that. There’s no ‘have to’ about it, it’s not an obligation or a fucking chore to go down there and see you. I’ll pass the Declan seal of travel-approval and get the witches to watch Opal and Chainsaw. Just tell me when.” _

“...”

_ “You’re not an inconvenience, Adam. You don’t have to be the only one driving.” _

“I know.”

_ “You’re still full of shit.” _

“I know.”

_ “...Do you have any more practice?” _

“We have a couple hours break and then go again for a bit in the evening.”

_ “Get some rest before it.” _

“I will. I’ve gotta see if anyone’s offering a ride back.”

_ “‘Kay.” _

“I love you.”

_ “I love you too. Tamquam.” _

“Alter idem.”

Adam hung up. He leaned his forehead against the brick of the stadium, wishing to meld into the white-painted walls. He missed Ronan like a lung. He’d give anything to be able to fall into his arms when he got back to the dorm.

“Was that fucking latin?”

Adam whipped his head around. It seemed he’d had a crowd, for how long he didn’t know. Dan and Matt had the decency to look a little guilty at being caught eavesdropping, but Allison and Nicky held no such qualms. Aaron, who had asked the question, was looking at him like he was insane. Neil seemed mildly curious, but Andrew, Renee, and Kevin next to him didn’t look like they had any interest standing there by the door. Adam stared at them all.

“Well? Was it?” Matt asked.

“Was what what?” Adam replied.

“What you said at the end, was that latin?”

“How long have you guys been standing there?”

The team glanced quietly amongst themselves. Adam cursed internally; there was no way they were going to rat themselves out. He sighed.

“Yeah, it was latin.”

“What did it mean?” Nicky asked, eyes wide and enraptured.

“It’s Cicero. Look it up.” Adam wasn’t answering these fucking questions.

“That’s pretentious as hell.” Allison said.

“Thanks.” Said Adam.

“Was that him?” Nicky blurted out. Adam sighed again.

“Yeah, Nicky, that was my boyfriend.”

It was a strange wave that swept over the foxes. Matt and Allison both cursed and seemed to be passing money down to Renee, who was smiling warmly at him. Aaron’s face was kind of twisted up, and Adam couldn’t wait to find out why  _ that _ was. If one of his roommates was homophobic, this was going to be a long year, and Adam was going to have as much un with it as possible. Kevin and Andrew stared at him in a way that was slightly uncomfortable, but the surprised yet fond look on Neil’s face was more than enough to make up for their expressions. As Nicky grinned at him, Dan stepped forward. 

“That’s great, Adam. Really. You should invite him down to a game when the season starts.”

Adam nodded awkwardly. “Right.”

“Some of us were going to go get lunch, do you want to hitch a ride in Matt’s truck? We’ve got space.”

Adam checked out the parking lot. There were only two cars, a black maserati and a powder blue truck. The maserati looked like sex on wheels. But Adam tore his eyes away; he could ask about the car’s owner later. Perhaps at lunch.

“Sure.” Adam said, and was ushered over to the truck by Dan. Nicky waved at him and said he’d see him later as he was corralled to the maserati. Renee mercifully took the middle seat and Adam squeezed into the edge of the backseat, closing the door as best he could.

As Matt drove them out of the parking lot, he cleared his throat.

“So, Adam, are you-”

“Going to tell us the name of your boyfriend?” Dan cut in, pinching Matt’s hand on the stick shift. Adam closed his eyes.

“His name is Ronan.”

“Matt,” Allison said, as though neither Dan nor Adam had spoken, “He’s obviously at least bi. There’s no way he could be gay when he was blushing at me like that yesterday.”

Adam felt a hand pat his leg. He opened his eyes to see Renee with the most sympathetic look on her face.

This was going to be a long ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my god, this was 11 pages. i hope yall enjoyed those 4 pages of pynch dialogue as much as i did!
> 
> please for the love of god appreciate neil walking bare-ass naked in the locker room to prove a point. please. im losing my mind. andrew is losing his mind. aaron is trying to see if he can decapitate himself with his locker.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has a chat with the monsters and Jack finally gets punched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh this chapter put up a fight, yall. i think it turned out pretty well, all things considered! 
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who leaves comments, it really brightens my day every time i get a notification <3

Lunch with the upperclassmen was pretty good, all things considered. Allison, Dan, and Matt all badgered him with questions about Ronan (“Where did you guys meet? What’s he look like? Holy shit, does he have any brothers?”), but at least they let him pay for himself without question. 

On their way up to their room in the Tower, Matt pulled Adam aside on the stairs. 

“So,” He started, chewing his lip a bit, “This is just a suggestion, but maybe try not to bring Ronan up around Aaron if you can?” 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Adam asked. He’d noticed Aaron’s expression after practice. He also wasn’t in the business of hiding the fact that he was bisexual and had a boyfriend, so this had better be a good reason or Adam was liable to bring Ronan up expressly to make Aaron uncomfortable.

“He’s...not exactly…” Matt grimaced and considered his words. “I don’t know the details, you’d need to ask the rest of the monsters-”

“The what?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. It’s, like, a little nickname for Andrew’s whole group; him, Neil, Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Neil gets kind of upset when we call them that, and good for him, sticking up for his man and everything, but it’s kind of stuck now.”

“Right.” Adam said. He pointedly ignored the obvious outing of Neil; it was none of his business unless Neil wanted to tell him himself, though it did feel nice to know it wasn’t just him and Nicky.

“Yeah, so if you want to know more about it, go ask them. Their room is at the end of the hall. But, uh, be careful? Neil may have mellowed them out a little, but I still don’t trust Andrew as far as I can throw him, you know?” Adam gave Matt a quick once over; he was easily taller than Ronan, and had obviously been playing on a Class-1 NCAA team for the past 4 years. Adam considered it.

“Based on how short he is, I’d say that’s pretty far. I’ll keep it in mind.” Matt gave a sharp laugh and quickly checked around them.

“Holy shit, that was hilarious but do _not_ let him or Aaron hear a height joke like that if you value your knees.” Matt gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You seem cool, Adam. I’m glad you’re here. Just be careful, yeah?”

“Sure.” Adam replied. He’d be careful. He was always careful. It was everyone else around him who decided to make poor decisions, obviously.

Matt nodded and they departed on their floor, Matt heading to their room and Adam going straight to the “monsters” door. It was ominous, certainly, but if Neil and Nicky were included under the moniker then it felt a little overdramatic. Of course, Adam reminded himself, he’d only just met them. For all he knew, they could be serial killers masquerading as exy players. Wouldn’t _that_ be a story.

Adam knocked on the door. It swung part way open, Andrew’s body trying to fill the frame.

They stared at each other. Neither had spoken to the other since the cookout. 

“What.” Andrew said. Adam decided to cut the bullshit. He had the sudden feeling that Andrew wouldn’t respond well to politeness, and he’d like some actual answers.

“Why did Matt just tell me not to talk about my boyfriend around your brother?” He said. Andrew looked him up and down for a moment, then stepped back and opened the door more. Adam stepped in. The living area was sparsely decorated, just two beanbags and a large flatscreen dominating most of it. Two writing desks were shoved under the windows, their chairs nowhere to be found. Neil and Nicky were sat in the beanbags, controllers in their hands.

“Nicky,” Andrew called, closing the door behind Adam, “Tell him why Aaron looked constipated when he found out about Adam’s boyfriend.”

Neil snorted and leaned back in his beanbag. He looked like he was settling in for a fun story. Nicky’s face twisted up.

“He’s…” Nicky started, then drifted off, unable to find the words. 

“A dick?” Neil supplied.

“Who’s a dick?” Kevin asked, walking out of the bathroom. 

“Aaron.” Neil said.

“Oh.” said Kevin. He paused like he was thinking about it, then nodded. “Yeah, he’s a dick.” Neil grinned, and continued to do so even when Kevin kicked him to try to get him to give up the beanbag. He was unsuccessful, and huffed as he sat on the floor between the bags.

“If the votes are all in,” Andrew said, bored, leaning back on the kitchen counter, “then there’s your answer: he’s a dick.”

“I really don’t think he’s actually homophobic,” Nicky objected, “He just has a lot of...complicated thoughts about it-”

“Complicated thoughts about men who like men? Sounds kind of gay of him, Nicky.” Neil snarked. Nicky stifled a laugh.

“You’re the _worst_. It’s like you want him to hate you.” Nicky’s tone was scolding, but he was all smiles at Neil as he said it. Neil shrugged.

“It’s not like he’s going to actually hit me.”

“Could you go a day without tempting fate?” Kevin pleaded, though he looked like he knew it was a losing battle. “Just one day without inviting someone to punch you in the face, that’s it.”

“He’s incapable.” Andrew said.

“I don’t _invite_ anyone to punch me in the-” Neil objected, but Andrew interrupted him.

“You know,” Andrew said, staring at the ceiling as though reading off it, “I get it. Being raised a superstar must be really-”

“ _Andrew_.” Kevin groaned, putting his face in his hands. Nicky started to cackle.

“-really hard for you. Always a commodity, never a human being,” Andrew continued, “Not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court-” Neil’s face was beet red, but his smile at Andrew was fond, and Adam felt something slide into place in his head.

 _Good for him, sticking up for his man._ Andrew was his man. That’s why he’d been ready to cut Jack open; he and Neil were together. All of Andrew’s glares were put into a new light in Adam’s brain as he compared them side-by-side with Ronan’s. They were both cutting with most anyone else, but the way Andrew looked at Neil, with both malice and fondness, seemed achingly familiar to Adam. He was a protective asshole who hated the world and everyone in it and wasn’t afraid to show it, except for the few people he unfortunately gave a shit about, just like Ronan. Adam suddenly had no doubt that Andrew was probably soft with children and animals. His thoughts were interrupted by Kevin’s loud groans.

“Cut that line out, I never asked to be a part of this.” He begged. Nicky laughed even harder.

“But that’s the best line! I quote that on the daily! It’s the intricate and endless daddy issues for me, bitch!” Nicky snapped his fingers and it sent Neil into a fit of giggles.

“Alright,” Neil admitted, face fully flushed and holding a hand up for Andrew to stop. “So maybe I sometimes say things that aren’t the wisest in the moment, but I stand by every word.”

“Wait.” Adam’s brain caught up. “You said that? Out loud, to a person?”

“It got worse.” Kevin mumbled. “That’s just the beginning of it.”

“Holy shit.” Adam said.

“He is a living safety hazard so long as he has the ability to speak.” Andrew said. He turned his gaze back to Adam. _Smooth transition,_ Adam thought. Mention a safety hazard, then look at Adam. Now that Adam had figured out what dialect of asshole Andrew spoke, he was able to read him loud and clear: _I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you. The people I care about seem to like you, and that pisses me off. I’d rather you fuck off right now, and am prepared to say something incredibly rude and/or threatening in order to accomplish this._

“Well,” Adam said, “This has been enlightening. Aaron’s a homophobe because Neil’s a smartass. Is that about right?” Neil beamed at him. 

“Holy shit,” Nicky said, eyes sparkling at Adam, “He might be onto something!”

“The logic checks out.” Kevin added. He looked miserable.

“They’re like a snake eating its own tail of hating each other, what’s that call-”

“Ouroboros.” Andrew and Adam said simultaneously. They locked eyes. Adam smiled at him. Andrew narrowed his eyes at him.

“I’m going to go rest before practice, then.” Adam said. “See you all later.” He waved to the room and walked out without a second glance.

 _I’ve got you all figured out, Andrew Minyard,_ Adam thought.

* * *

Back in his room, Adam was surprised to see Aaron lounging on his bed. He thought he would’ve been trying to get some time in with his girlfriend, Kaitlyn. Adam had yet to actually meet her, but he’d heard about her from Matt. Apparently there was an intense bet riding on when the twins would figure out that they were both dating redheaded athletes, and a bet on which one of them would figure it out first, and a bet on which one would throw the first punch in the ensuing fight. Adam had learned a lot about the ongoing betting ring within the team during his lunch with the upperclassmen. He hadn’t put his money on anything yet, but it was intriguing. He wondered if his cards would give him an edge on what to bet on. It might be cheating, but it didn’t seem any worse than betting on your teammates’ lives.

Aaron looked up at him from the bottom bunk. Adam stared back from the doorway. They stayed like that for a moment before Aaron sighed.

“Look, I don’t know what they told you, but I don’t give a shit.” He said. It caught Adam off guard. He wasn’t sure how Aaron knew where he’d just come from. Maybe Matt told him, or maybe it was something on Adam’s face. Maybe Aaron just knew how much the team tended to talk and made an educated guess.

“Okay.” Adam said.

“I’m serious. I don’t care. Just let me know ahead of time before he comes over so I can leave. I don’t want to see any of that shit.” He had that constipated look on his face again. There were the complicated feelings Nicky had mentioned. Adam decided not to press him; he knew an olive branch when he saw one.

“No problem. For what it’s worth, he kind of reminds me of your brother.” Adam said as he walked over to the ladder. Aaron furrowed his brows.

“How?”

“They both have the whole ‘violent and emotionally stunted homosexual’ thing going on, I think.” Aaron snorted and quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Adam saw the mirth in his eyes.

“Now I really don’t want to meet him.” He said from under his hand. Adam grinned and climbed up into his bed. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, an order was established among the Foxes. Adam would get lunches with the upperclassmen when they went out to eat, and Nicky would pull him to sit with the monsters when they went to the athletes’ cafeteria. Since the Vixen training camp started, Aaron and Fletcher were rarely around the dorms; Fletcher had found himself very popular very quickly among the cheerleaders. Adam didn’t question it. Fletcher reminded him of every generic boy he’d seen fall asleep in class at Aglionby, the only thing he was missing was boat shoes and a sports car. But Fletcher didn’t have boat shoes or a sports car; he ran at the world in worn yet designer clothing and a dazzling smile. 

Matt invited Adam to the older girls’ room for movies on Friday nights when Andrew and Neil and their crew would leave for the weekend. Allison and Eliot were having a movie war, pulling a film from their personal collections and seeing which one the rest of them liked better. Gillian didn’t seem to like anything, and made it loudly known, much to Adam’s delight. She was a terror of a human being. He thought Blue and Ronan would love her.

Jack had stopped outright instigating arguments and was giving Neil a wide berth since the locker room incident, but he still had major issues with following Dan and Kevin’s lead on the court. His sneers and sparkling personality had led to the rest of the team leaving him alone for the most part, except for Fletcher and Benjy, who were his roommates and had to interact with him. Poor Benjy, who easily had half a foot on Jack, had decided it was his duty on the team to try and act as an intermediary. Jack would start in on the easiest target after practice, and Benjy would put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and remind him that they hadn’t done anything to him, and Jack would shrug him off and storm off the showers. Matt had suggested buying Benjy a giftcard of some kind to thank him for his labor- one month in, and somehow there hadn’t been any physical altercations between Jack and another player. 

Of course, July never brought anything good. 

The peace ended on the first. Gillian was riding Jack’s ass while they were going over a play. He couldn’t take a step without her covering him, and as soon as he got the ball she checked him into the wall with as much force as she could. Jack lost his shit the third time she slammed him into the boards.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He yelled at her, pushing her away from him. “This is practice, not the fucking WWE!”

“Maybe if you were faster, you wouldn’t get railed so hard!” She snapped, dropping her stick and pushing him back.

“If you really wanted to rail me, all you had to do was ask.” Jack leered. Gillian grabbed his helmet by the face mask, pulled him down towards her, and punched him in the throat. Jack made a choked-off noise and crumpled to the ground. Even with the neck guard, a direct hit like that was brutal. She made to follow him down, her fist pulled back, when Matt stepped up and grabbed her arm.

“Whoa, that’s enough-” The words had barely left his mouth before Gillian had swung around and swept Matt’s legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground. 

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” Her shout reverberated around the court. The rest of the team stood stock still. Wymack burst into the court.

“What in the fuck was that?” He yelled. “Bacay, take a fucking lap. Boyd, you good?”

“Yeah coach, just landed on my ass.”

“Good. Take Rudawski to Abby. Jesus Christ, kid, a throat punch?” Coach said as Gillian stormed past him. She threw her helmet off onto the bench, and the last Adam caught of her face it was wide-eyed and wild. 

“Show’s over, folks!” Coach clapped his hands together. “I want to have to say this only once this year: keep your personal shit off my goddamn court. When you’re in here, you’re a team. Save the fight for the game, got it?”

“Yes coach.” The Foxes called back. 

“Good. Let’s get into some footwork drills.” 

As Adam lined up, he caught the goalies standing off to the side. Renee leaned over to Eliot and said something. Eliot smiled in return, a rare look from them on the court. 

Andrew was still next to them as he watched Gillian run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I have you all figured out, Andrew Minyard." damn Adam i thought you were supposed to be the Magician, not the Fool
> 
> oh baby we are entering plot territory next chapter! it only took 6 chapters of worldbuilding!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets an offer he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy here we go! this is kind of a shorter chapter but it felt like a good place to leave off. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who comments, your excitement for this is honestly half of what keeps me going, besides my own brainworms <3

Thursday came with a sinking feeling in Adam’s gut. He hadn’t told anyone on the team about his birthday being tomorrow, and he wasn’t planning to. Ronan would call, and Gansey and Blue and Henry, and maybe even the ladies at Fox Way, and they would wish him happy birthday, and they’d move on. Adam didn’t need a big deal; there was a time when he used to dread his birthday as just another reminder of his wretched origins, a life he’d never asked for. At this point, he simply had no feeling towards it. He was just going to be another year older, another year closer to achieving the goals he thought he should strive for. 

Adam had gotten his car back from the garage last week, and had dropped off his resume while he was at it. Hopefully he could get some part time work during the school year. The student athletes’ stipend was nice, but if he wanted to reapply to Harvard in the spring or summer he’d need to make sure to have the funds on hand for the application fee. Having extra money for gas so he could drive up to see Ronan sometimes wouldn’t be so bad either.

Since the return of the hondayota, Adam had been ferrying Gillian and Eliot back and forth from practice. Eliot had, unfortunately, called shotgun and found Ronan’s mixtape, filling their mornings with murder squash. It certainly made sure they were awake by the time they arrived at the Foxhole Court, at the very least.

Practice went without incident, and Adam and the other two freshmen went for lunch at the athletes’ cafeteria, and then slept and went back to the court in the evening. It was a familiar, steady routine by this point. Adam would call Ronan most evenings, or text if he didn’t have the energy. He was texting more than he ever had now, between Blue, Gansey, and Henry all sending him updates and pictures and articles during their trip. Adam was happy for them, going off and continuing their adventures, especially for Blue; like him, she had never gone too far from Henrietta her whole life. Blue was brave, though. She sought out the adventure, while Adam remained grounded by his anxiety and intense mistrust of airplanes. He wondered what they’d found out there, the three of them. Between Blue’s courage, Gansey’s tenacity, and Henry’s raw charisma, Adam wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up tomorrow and found out they’d taken over the world.

He was rereading their conversations on Matt’s couch after that evening’s practice when Aaron came in. He stood in the doorway and stared at Adam with a pinched expression. Adam nodded to him in acknowledgement.

“Andrew wants you to come over to their dorm.” He said. He sounded vaguely pissed off.

“Okay.” Adam said. He looked back down at his phone.

“Now.”

Adam looked up again. Aaron wasn’t just leaning in the doorway- he was waiting for him.

“Did he say why?” Adam asked. Aaron scoffed.

“I stopped questioning why Andrew does things a long time ago.” He said. “It’ll just give you a migraine. Come on.”

Adam followed Aaron to the monsters’ dorm, where they found Gillian leaning on the kitchen counter. She stood with her arms crossed, watching Kevin and Neil playing some video game that Kevin was obviously losing, based on the curses he was raining on Neil’s smug face. Andrew was sitting on a desk by a window that was partially cracked open, blowing cigarette smoke out into the muggy South Carolina night. He turned a lazy gaze to the door when Aaron and Adam stepped in. 

“Mission success.” He announced blandly. “The guests of honor have all arrived.” He took one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out and hopping off the desk. He pointed to Adam and Gillian from his spot across the room.

“You two,” Andrew said, “are coming with us to Columbia tomorrow night.”

Adam stared at him.

“Why the fuck would we do that?” Gillian snapped.

“Because,” Andrew said, walking lazily over to the two freshmen, “You’re going to.” He said it like it was fact, like there was no way anything else could happen. There were facts of life, and Adam and Gillian going to Columbia was suddenly one of them.

“What’s in Columbia?” Adam asked.

“There’s a club we go to!” Nicky piped in from his spot on the floor. “We used to work there, it’s hot as hell. All black, bodies packed and grinding, colorful lights; it’s gonna be great. You’re gonna love it.”

Adam frowned. It did not sound like something he would love at all. Adam Parrish was a simple creature. He preferred the outdoors, wide rolling fields and a couple of friends, and a glass bottle of coke if he felt like a treat. Imagining being packed into a dark building full of writhing, drunk strangers and flashing lights was not his idea of a good time. Gillian seemed to share his thoughts.

“I don’t club.”

“Me neither. It’s not really my thing. Thanks for the invite, though.” Adam added. Gillian glanced at him, and an understanding passed between them.

_ I’m not going anywhere with them if you aren’t. I won’t go without you. _

It was strange. They hadn’t actually talked to each other without Eliot around. But all of a sudden Adam felt a connection to this girl, who seemed to sense just as much as he did that this trip was more of a trap.

“That's cute. The whole ‘united front’ thing you are doing.” Andrew said. “Really shows team spirit. But it is pointless and unnecessary. We are leaving at 7 after practice. Expect a bag of clothes-”

“What part of ‘no’ did you not understand?” Gillian snapped. The energy in the room changed as Andrew stopped lazily pacing, freezing in place. “We said we’re not interested. So we’re not going. You can’t just talk over us like we said ‘yeah, sure, let’s fucking go.’ We said no, Adam said thanks because he’s a polite young man, and I’m saying fuck off because I’m not. If you can’t take no for an answer-”

“Get out.” Andrew cut her off. His voice sent a tendril of dread down Adam’s spine and right into his stomach. He started for the door, thankful when Andrew stayed where he was rather than trying to impede him, or worse. Adam knew what was in those armbands he was wearing, and he’d rather not be on the receiving end. He opened the door and looked back to make sure Gillian was following him. She looked furious, still standing and gaping at Andrew like it was taking every ounce of her self control to not pounce on him right there in front of anyone. Once again, the wild rawness of Gillian Bacay was on full display. As much as Adam wanted to see her throat punch Andrew Minyard, he also would rather she not risk getting stabbed in the process either.

“Gill.” He said. She turned her attention to him quickly. Eliot had given her the nickname, but Adam had never called her by it. “Come on. We’re out.”

Gillian looked almost surprised that he was standing there, waiting for her when he could’ve made his own escape already. Adam was a little surprised at himself, in all honesty. He wasn’t one to hesitate in leaving something behind. But, then, he thought about the Barns, and Ronan and Opal, and the quick way he’d learned that leaving behind something you care about can be one of the worst things in the world. He knew he was going back for them, though. Maybe he was already growing into his second chance, the Adam Parrish out of Henrietta. Maybe this Adam Parrish was the kind who went back. Maybe he always had been, though, and he’d just never had anything to consider going back for. 

Gillian Bacay’s deep brown eyes and clenched fists reminded him too much of Blue Sargent to consider leaving her behind, Adam realized. Her fire and fear were too similar to Ronan, her pride and raised head too like Gansey in his purest form. The haunted sadness that wafted off her in an aura of colors unknown to his mortal eye tugged at Adam’s mind in a way that murdered and remembered and whispered of a well known and well missed ghost.

Adam kept looking at her.

_ I’m not leaving you here with them. I won't go without you. _

Adam stepped aside to let Gillian through and quickly closed the door. Behind them. He didn’t need to see whatever was about to go down in that room. He didn’t care. He wasn’t a monster, not like them at least, and he didn’t need Andrew Minyard’s approval, nor did he care about his anger, so long as he was clear of the fallout. He walked with Gillian down the hall to her dorm in silence. She stopped with her keys in her hand.

“Adam,” She said, throat full, “I don’t wanna deal with Eliot right now.” Adam thought for a moment.

“Follow me.” He walked further down the hall and into the stairwell, going up the flights till he reached the door to the roof. He crouched and inspected the lock and handle.

“Nicky told me that Andrew and Neil come up here sometimes. I’m sure they won’t mind sharing.” He said. Gillian snorted behind him.

“Right, I’m sure a guy like that has no problem with people touching his things.” She responded. Adam could hear her eye roll and smirked.

“Exactly. He’s so warm and friendly.” Adam drawled. He jiggled the door handle and pushed it forward until it opened. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“Nah. There are worse things in life.” 

Adam held the door open for her, but she just raised an eyebrow in return. Chivalry was dead, it seemed. Adam shrugged and walked onto the roof.

The mugginess of the South Carolina night wrapped around him. Adam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could smell the dirt, the trees, the must of nature carried on the wind that danced and curled about his tee shirt. He leaned against the brick of the stairwell and just breathed. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Gillian crouched by the edge. She was holding her knees and staring out into the sky.

“I don’t like men who can’t take no for an answer.” She said.

“I thought you didn’t much like men at all.”

“I don’t, asshole. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“It’s the audacity, the fucking audacity that we’re just going to do what he says.”

“To be fair, he does have knives. Those can be pretty convincing.”

“A duck could figure out how to use a knife if it was dedicated enough. He’s not fucking special.” Gillian scoffed. Adam laughed. There was silence again.

“I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before.” Gillian said softly. “I’m only gay in theory, really.” Adam’s eyes shot up. He wasn’t sure where this came from.

“I didn’t realize I liked men until last year.” He offered. “I figured out my friend liked me, and after some thought I figured out I liked him too. I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“Is it scary?” 

Adam thought for a moment.

“Yeah. But there are worse things.”

They stayed like that on the roof, in quiet understanding, until Adam turned 19.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh lawd its gettin heated in the foxhole. we like to have fun here.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Neil have a talk. The Gangsey uses skype.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter really fought me but ultimately i won

Adam didn’t get much sleep before practice. His mind wouldn’t quiet down enough.  _ I’m nineteen, _ he thought. His last birthday had gone quiet and unnoticed surrounded by his friends- his family -at Fox Way. He’d enjoyed the surprising peace that being surrounded by a bunch of people you actually liked and cared about could bring. Now, though, now he was miles and states away from everyone he’d grown to love. He didn’t know when this new type of aching had started. Adam had been alone for so long, he hadn’t realized he’d accidentally found a family until they were scattered across the country. He’d never had something to miss like this. 

That morning’s practice was a joke. Many of the Foxes were keyed up, too busy discussing Fourth of July plans to give much of a shit. Kevin may have been furious, but Wymack was beyond irritated. The whole team got chewed out for slacking off, and Adam became intimately familiar with the topography of the wall behind his yelling coach. He knew this wasn’t directed at him, he’d actually been trying, but there was something about a grown man’s anger that would never cease to put him on edge.

As soon as Wymack was done tearing into them and promising intense cardio for that evening’s practice, Adam dashed out of the foyer. He reached for his phone to call Ronan, as had become routine after morning practice. It wasn’t in his pocket. It wasn’t in his bag, either. Adam cursed; it must have fallen out in his locker and he’d left it there. He turned around as his teammates filed past him towards food and fireworks and rest. When he entered the locker room, however, it wasn’t empty.

Neil was sitting, straddling a bench, with Adam’s phone in his hand. From the easy way Neil was looking at him, Adam quickly decided that he had not just forgotten his phone. He stared at Neil.

“Why won’t you come to Columbia?” He asked, hand idly fiddling with Adam’s phone. Adam kept his face carefully neutral.

“I don’t like clubs, and I don’t dance or drink enough to make it worthwhile. It’d just be a waste of time.” He said. Neil nodded.

“Yeah, me neither. I didn’t want to go the first time I was invited, either. Andrew hadn’t given me much of a choice, though. It was a shitshow.”

“What happened?”

“I had a busboy knock me out and then hitchhiked my way back to campus.” He shrugged, like he was talking about the weather or how he thought he did on an exam. Adam’s eyes widened.

“Holy  _ shit _ .”

“Yeah. My second time was a lot better, although one of our teammates was murdered while we were gone, so that kind of put a damper on the whole night.”

“ _ Jesus _ .”

“No, Seth.”

“That’s not funny.” Adam felt exhausted more than anything. His mind was racing; why was Neil telling him this? Was it a threat to make him go with them? If anything, it was just driving Adam to be more on guard. But looking at Neil, his body language was completely relaxed. When Adam searched his eyes for something, anything to work on, he was struck with how icy they were. Normally the vice captain’s eyes were a light blue, like pool water on a bright summer day. Now they were sharp and menacing, and Adam felt in his bones that Neil was dangerous.

“Did you know your face does this thing when you’re assessing threats?” Neil asked. “I noticed it when we picked you up off the side of the road. You lose all expression, like not using your face muscles is going to make your brain work faster. Andrew thought you were some kind of fighter, but he didn’t find any criminal records attached to your name. Found that restraining order, though. Nice job on that, by the way, it seems way easier than just going on the run and praying he doesn’t find you and finally beat you to death. Very proactive.”

Adam clenched his hands and his jaw. He didn’t know what Neil’s game was, but he didn’t like that Andrew had run some kind of background check on him. Neil pointed to his fists.

“See, that’s what’s got Andrew so confused about you. You stood your ground with him on the side of the road, but you ran from him in Abby’s kitchen. You walked right into our dorm and looked at him like you knew something. You’re constantly analyzing everything and everyone’s intentions, but even with Andrew as an established threat, you pushed back. He thinks you have some kind of death wish, even with the restraining order and boyfriend. I think it’s something else, though.” Neil leaned back and smiled. “I don’t think you’re trying to control everything around you. I think you’re trying to control yourself.”

Adam swallowed, but his throat felt full of mud. Neil’s eyes held him in place. He wanted to leave, to run forward and push him back, tell him he didn’t know anything about Adam. He was a mess of contradictions in the shape of a boy, and Neil was trying to dig into him and see it all. Neil waited to see if Adam could respond, but he couldn’t find the right words. He couldn’t think with Neil looking at him like that. Adam Parrish couldn’t  _ think. _

“You’re choking yourself,” Neil said, “On and off the court. You know every play, but you won’t let yourself move until you’ve weighed the pros and cons of each action. It makes you slow.” 

Adam let out a strangled laugh. “Is this all just about my exy game?” Neil shrugged.

“Partially. I need the team to do well, and for that to happen I think you need to lose control. Try it for an evening, test it out. Andrew will make sure you don’t hurt anyone, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to knock yourself out and hitchhike home. Let go for a night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

_ I could kill someone,  _ Adam’s mind supplied. He thought of the last time he lost control of his body, of his hands around Ronan’s neck, squeezing the life out of him. Adam would rather choke himself than risk hurting the people he loved. Love was something to be careful with, to hold gently and close. Adam was only just learning how capable he was of gentleness; he didn’t want to drop it all now. 

But Ronan wasn’t here- in fact, none of the people Adam cared about were. It would be Neil and Andrew who had to deal with the fallout of Adam Parrish, and he felt a sort of bitter justification to the whole thing. They were literally asking for it. Let them make their bed, Adam decided. Whatever happened, Adam wouldn’t be responsible. 

“Fine.” Adam said. He watched as Neil’s entire face changed, the menacing power subsiding in exchange for a relaxed smile. Neil stood and walked over to Adam, handing him his phone. 

“See you tonight.” He said. Adam took his phone and left the room, left the building as evenly as he could. 

In the parking lot, Eliot was leaning on the hondayota, staring at their phone. They looked up when Adam approached.

“There you are. Can you start the car?” They asked. “It’s like Satan’s balls out here.” 

Adam unlocked the car and looked around.

“Where’s Gillian?” He asked. He had a sinking feeling he already knew. Eliot just shrugged and climbed into the front seat.

“Renee caught her and asked to talk to her inside. I doubt they’ll take much longer, just start the car already. Your shitbox AC is better than nothing.”

Sure enough, Adam looked up and Gillian was walking out of the Foxhole Court. She seemed deflated, and as she walked closer he could see her deep-seated frown. She met Adam’s eyes, thought, and he saw the anger there still, a force in the deep brown like an oncoming landslide. He nodded to her, in understanding and camaraderie.

They were going to Columbia that night.

* * *

Adam sat on skype during the break. He hadn’t felt very hungry. He just wanted to talk to his friends and forget about his life for a little bit. He wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea anymore, however.

“The Amish are such a fascinating community! The bonds that they’ve stuck to, even in the face of all the modernization they’re surrounded by- that they’ve managed to preserve their traditions for so long is incredible!” Gansey said. He’d been waxing poetic about the Pennsylvania Amish town he, Blue, and Henry had visited the day before. He was thrilled when Adam texted and asked them if they all wanted to do a video call, immediately replying ‘Yes!!!’ Blue was squeezed in next to Gansey on the left side of the frame, Henry on the right. 

“He refused to let us take pictures.” She cut in, looking simultaneously annoyed and amused. “He thought it would ‘contaminate the integrity of their mission.’”

“Hey, your Dick 3 impression is really improving!” Henry laughed and nudged his shoulder into Gansey, making him sway to the side and shove into Blue. She grinned and shouldered Gansey right back into him. Gansey spluttered as he was rocked back and forth.

“That is not what I said! I said it seemed disrespectful to the integrity of their community if we flaunted our technology!”

“That is literally exactly what Lavender said, I don’t know what you’re trying to correct here.” Henry teased.

“The integrity of his statement, perhaps?” Blue replied, deepening her voice and straightening her posture to mimic Gansey’s. Adam’s lips twitched up. God, he missed them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Ronan said. Even through the screen, Adam could tell he was looking directly at him.

“What?” Adam asked.

“They’re roasting Gansey-”

“-And you’ve barely touched your plate, Parrish!” Henry cut in. “Did something happen at school? Were the other kids being mean to you?” 

“Henry.” Gansey said. Henry’s eyebrows jumped up, but he stopped his teasing, and Adam was suddenly reminded of the power behind his best friend’s voice. Gansey turned to the camera.

“Adam,” He asked, face stern and searching, “Is something wrong?”

Adam grimaced. He didn’t like that they were all waiting on him, but he also knew better than to try to hide it. These were his friends, and unfortunately they already knew all his tells. He didn’t want to tell them about Neil’s condition, so he’d need to keep whatever he said as close to the truth as possible. Adam shrugged.

“Some of my teammates found out about my birthday. They’re taking me to a club tonight. I’ve never been before.”

“You?” Blue asked, surprised. “At a nightclub?” Adam sighed and looked up at the ceiling. 

“It wasn’t my idea.” He said.

“Have you tried telling them to fuck off?” Ronan asked. He was very obviously pissed off. 

“They were very persuasive.”

“Do you even own any nightclub-worthy attire?” Henry asked.

“They’re bringing me clothing.”

“Do you trust them?” 

Adam looked at Gansey. He had his leader face on. It made something in Adam’s heart stop, just seeing how resolute and steady Gansey looked.

“I’m not sure yet.” Adam answered honestly. Gansey nodded.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” Gansey mused. Adam breathed. Something about Gansey accepting this rather than lecturing Adam on safety and choices….Adam quietly hated himself for still feeling the effects of Richard Campbell Gansey III’s approval, miles and miles away. 

There was a sudden slam of a door from Ronan’s mic.

“Kerah!” said a little voice offscreen. “Cur iratus?”

“Non sum.” Ronan snapped. “Speak fucking English.” A large raven flew onto his shoulder and pecked his head. Ronan cursed. “Don’t fucking- I told you to stay out of here!”

“You should listen to your father, Opal.” Blue said very seriously. Adam could see her struggling not to smile. Ronan sneered.

“I’m not her fucking father.” He said. Henry tapped his chin.

“Well, hold on now,” He said, “Let’s think about this. What  _ is _ a father? Can any of us truly answer such a philosophical question?”

“Shut up, Cheng.” Ronan said. Adam smiled and shook his head. He sure as fuck didn’t know what a real father was.

“I was raised by women. I’ve never met a man in my life.” Blue said. Gansey glared at her. 

“Nor have I, Lilac, nor have I.” Henry replied. “That leaves Ganseyboy here. Tell us, Mister The Third: what  _ is _ a father?” Gansey let out a very put-upon sigh.

“I really don’t think I should be the authority on this. I was raised by nannies.” He said. Blue tapped her chin.

“Well…” She drawled. “There is Mr. Gray.” Ronan made a face. 

“Sure,” Adam snorted, “Let’s use the former hitman as the standard for fatherhood.” There was a large gasp offscreen, and suddenly Opal was climbing into Ronan’s lap.

“Adam!” She said his name like ‘atom’, and he felt his heart swell, even as Ronan cursed at her grabby hands and sharp hooves crawling on him.

“My little cousins like him.” Blue shrugged. “He helps mom cook, reads them stories, plays with them. He even helped Orla teach Andy how to swim last week. That seems pretty dad-like to me.”

“So, Opal, tell us,” Henry said, “Who cooks, reads, plays with you, and teaches you how to swim? Who is, in fact, your daddy?”

“Ew, just say dad like a normal person.” Blue said, absolutely disgusted by his word choice.

Opal thought for a moment before answering.

“Adam taught me how to swim.” She said simply. “He sounds nicer than Kerah when he reads. He doesn’t make me eat with metals.” She nodded resolutely, as though coming to a conclusion. “I like Adam. He can be dad. When are you coming home?”

The call was silent. The door to Adam’s room shut; he hadn’t noticed it open. 

“Shit.” He said, and scrambled down from his bunk.

Aaron was standing at the front door, a plastic bag in his hands. He looked like he was about to leave before Adam rushed out of the bedroom. They locked eyes.

“She’s not mine.” Adam said dumbly. He wasn’t sure how much of that Aaron had heard. Aaron just stared at him, wide eyed and stock still.

“She’s my boyfriend’s.” He tried again.

“She called you ‘dad.’” Aaron said evenly.

“I don’t- she’s never done that before.”

“She asked when you were coming home.”

“Yeah.”

“How old is she?”

“...Four. Her name is Opal.” 

Aaron’s expression tensed. His grip on the doorknob tightened.

“What the fuck did Andrew say to you?” He was talking about why Adam had suddenly changed his mind about going to Columbia.

“It was Neil, actually.” Aaron’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Whatever they try tonight, they’re on their fucking own. I’m not helping with this.” Aaron said. He threw the bag on the ground and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Adam picked up the bag and returned to his bed. The call was quietly waiting for him.

“Adam?” Blue said.

“We need a story for Opal.” Adam said numbly. “My roommate thinks she’s Ronan’s actual daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt like this needed a balance of some humor and what better way than to make Adam suffer in a different way featuring Opal?
> 
> next chapter: columbia!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Gillian go to Columbia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took so long because it was a MONSTER i just!! had so much i wanted to include!!! but we did it kids!!!
> 
> i made a post of some artbreeder designs i made for the freshmen on tumblr, so check that out!  
> (https://broadwaypatroclus.tumblr.com/post/645310957369835520/im-writing-this-huge-raven-cycleall-for-the-game)

Adam was 90% sure these pants shouldn’t be as tight as they were. It was like wearing some kind of wetsuit, all black and shiny and clinging to his legs. If getting them on was like this, he wasn’t looking forward to getting them off later. He threw on the black tee from the bag he’d been given by Aaron (courtesy of Andrew), and looked in the mirror. He frowned. It was a deep v-cut and hugged his biceps in a way that he thought would make Ronan drool. Adam felt acutely uncomfortable; he still found it strange that he was desirable. It felt as though he’d gone to sleep a scrawny, dust-covered teenager and woken up...this. He couldn’t place when it had happened. He snapped a picture of himself and sent it to Ronan.

_What do you think?_

The response was a phone call.

“Hello?” 

_“Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?”_

Adam grinned and started putting on his old work boots. They were black, so he figured it wouldn’t violate the dress code too badly. There was no way in hell he was wearing whatever outrageously expensive sneakers were in that bag.

“I’m guessing it looks fine then?”

_“I’m trying to cook, you shitstain.”_

“Then why did you call me? You shouldn’t be distracted around hot stoves.”

_“Fuck you, I wasn’t distracted until you sent that fucking…”_

“...Yeah?” Adam raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t often Ronan Lynch couldn’t find a word to say. 

_“Shut up. Are those fucking pleather?”_

“Maybe? They’re really tight. I feel like I’m gonna tear them if I try to move too much.”

_“With your ass, I’m surprised you could get into them in the first place.”_ Adam laughed, his cheeks flushing.

“Shut up, or I’ll just throw them away after tonight.”

_“And I’ll dream you five more pairs.”_

“Five?”

_“Back ups. I’m thinking one of them could be waterproof.”_

“Why in the hell would they ever need to be waterproof?” Adam checked his watch. Quarter to 7, he had to head over to the Monster’s dorm. He understood their name now. 

_“I don’t fucking know, it could be handy.”_

“‘Handy’, right. I’ve gotta go, we’re supposed to leave in fifteen.”

_“...Be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”_

“That’s not much of a limit.”

_“Fuck you, die then.”_

Adam’s smile grew. He slung his jean jacket over his shoulder.

“I love you too. I’ll be safe, promise. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

_“Good. Tamquam.”_

“Alter idem.” Adam hung up his phone and slid it into his back pocket. When he opened his door he saw Gillian leaning beside it, arms crossed. She was in similar attire to Adam; a tank and off-shoulder sweater and ripped up jeans, all the same shade of black. She looked Adam up and down.

“Is that pleather?” She asked.

“I think so.”

“Walk ahead of me.” She ordered. Adam raised an eyebrow and started down the hall. He heard Gillian curse behind him.

“Those fuckers!”

“What?” Adam asked, stopping to look back at her. She was smiling and shaking her head.

“They dressed you with a fucking purpose, man.” She said. Adam flushed again.

“Quit objectifying me, we’re supposed to be walking to our doom.” Gillian rolled her eyes but fell in step with him.

“Oh no, the big bad lesbian is objectifying the gay man’s ass. I’m not hitting on you, I’m appreciating fine art. I’m a tit person, and I can still see that those pants were a _choice_ on your behalf.”

“I’m bi, but point taken.”

“They even have you in a slutty little v-neck. Wait, stop, hold on.” She said. Adam narrowed his eyes at her but stopped. Gillian kneeled down and cuffed his pants. She stood and smirked.

“Alright, now we’re good to go to our doom.”

They paused in front of the door. As fun as teasing each other was, it sunk in again just what was about to happen. They were going to a nightclub they hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place in a city almost two hours away, with people they barely knew, barely trusted, and had all but blackmailed them into agreeing to come. They had no idea what was awaiting them. All they had was the barest comfort that they weren’t alone. 

The door to the lion’s den opened before either of them could knock.

Andrew looked them both up and down, and, presumably finding them acceptable, spoke.

“Parrish, you are driving Nicky and Neil. You are going to follow my car, though failing that simple task, they can give you directions. Bacay, with me.” He walked into the hall and started for the stairwell. Adam grit his teeth. Andrew was separating them on purpose. Aaron and Kevin walked out soon after them. Aaron spared Adam a glance, frowned, and continued on. 

“Oh, hot _damn,_ I am writing Andrew a thank you letter.” Nicky said as he walked out, very obviously checking Adam out. Neil came out behind him and locked the door, raising his eyebrow at Nicky before turning to Adam. 

“I’m gonna write him a cease and desist order.” Adam said, feeling entirely too conscious of his body. If this was what was in store for his whole night, he was already done with it all. “I feel like a piece of meat.”

“Honey, you are a well done steak. If your boyfriend wasn’t 6’2 and I weren’t engaged, _oh_ , the things I would do to you right now.” Nicky drawled. Neil rolled his eyes and shoved Nicky towards the stairwell. Adam grimaced and made the conscious decision to not walk in front of Nicky tonight, if he could help it.

* * *

Andrew Minyard, Adam decided, drove like a mad man. The hondayota shook with the effort it took to try and keep pace with the maserati, which was a ridiculous concept to begin with. His shitbox was not made for weaving down highways at 80 miles an hour. He lost the maserati a few times, but Neil was a surprisingly good shotgun and pointed the car out to him each time. 

They stopped for dinner at a place about an hour out, a packed diner called Sweetie’s. Nicky had apparently worked there for a period of time and was friends with most of the wait staff. Adam stared at the menu. The first student athlete stipend wouldn’t come in until school started, so he was still working off of what he’d saved in Henrietta. He wanted to go shopping at some point next week, and knew he was going to need enough for a new tank after tonight’s drive, so he should probably keep his meal under ten dollars at the most. Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face.

“You are thinking too loudly.” Andrew said. “Get whatever you want. Neil is paying.” 

“I can pay for myself.” Adam said.

“Congratulations.” Andrew pulled out his wallet and took a card out. “Neil is paying.”

“Just let it happen.” Nicky said, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “We all get to reap the benefits of Andrew’s sugar daddy.”

Aaron made a face across the table. “I will literally pay you to never say that again.”

“Why do you have Neil’s credit card in your wallet?” Gillian asked.

“Because Neil would probably lose it otherwise.” Kevin said. Neil shrugged.

“What am I going to do with it? Andrew buys better stuff anyways.” He said. Andrew side eyed him, but Adam could sense an aura of smugness coming off of him. It dug under his skin.

“Thanks for the offer. I don’t need you to pay for me, though. I can cover myself.” He stared into Andrew’s eyes, a challenge. Andrew simply raised an eyebrow at him.

“Pride in a Parrish. Isn’t that a sin in the house of god?” He said.

“I’ve done worse on church property.” Adam said.

“Hold on,” Nicky cut in, “Can we get some elaboration on that? What exactly have you done on church property?”

All eyes were on Adam. He deeply regretted ever speaking. His ears burned. There was a beat of silence as they waited for him to speak, before Nicky gasped.

“ _Adam Parrish,_ have you gotten dicked down in a church!?” 

“ _No._ ” Adam felt nauseous. 

“Wrong question, Nicky.” Andrew said. “He said ‘church property.’ That does not mean he was in the church itself.” 

Adam stared at the menu. The breakfast for dinner specials were suddenly very interesting.

“Adam!” Nicky exclaimed, shaking his shoulder. “You whore!”

“What kind of church? What denomination?” Gillian asked, eyes wide and serious.

“...Catholic.” Adam mumbled. Nicky exploded with laughter.

“Oh my- holy _shit!_ What the fuck! Was it during mass? Were you getting your dick sucked to the sound of hymns?” He asked. Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and suddenly an incredible idea popped into his head. He smirked.

“Not possible, seeing as Ronan would be there for mass.” He said. Kevin immediately choked on his water. Neil started cackling, and the table was in minor uproar.

“Your boyfriend’s church?! Your boyfriend’s catholic church?! You did the dirty in your boyfriend’s catholic church?!” Nicky was practically vibrating.

“How the fuck can you be gay and catholic?” Aaron asked, looking only mildly horrified. Adam shrugged.

“He’s not exactly what you’d call ‘well adjusted.’” He said. Andrew snorted. Gillian was looking at Adam like he’d hung the moon. 

“Adam Parrish,” Nicky said, “You are my hero. You’re a legend. An Icon. We’re splitting the ice cream special. I am in love with you.” 

Adam shook his head, a small smile tugging on his lips against his better judgement. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

It was bad. Eden’s Twilight was far too loud, and Adam was deaf in one ear. He could feel the bass shooting through his bones like waves. The lights flashed in blues and pinks, and Gillian pressed close to his side as they followed the others through the crowds of leather-clad dancers and drunks. Andrew met them at a circular booth, carrying two trays full of drinks in an impressive display of balance. He put two shots in front of Gillian.

“Drink these. Aaron and Nicky are taking you dancing.” He said. Gillian paled and glanced at the writhing sea of bodies in the dance pit. She opened her mouth to object, but Andrew cut her off.

“Or you can hide for the rest of your life, and Renee and I will do our sparring sessions without you. Your choice.”

“We’ll stay with you the whole time, Gillian.” Nicky said, patting her arm. Aaron said nothing but stared hard at his twin, arms crossed. Gillian was quiet for a moment, face unreadable, before she threw back the shots. Nicky cheered.

“Alright! Let’s fucking go!” He said, and downed his own shots. He took Gillian by the arm and led her to the dance floor. Aaron was still seated. He and Andrew locked eyes for a long minute, having an entire conversation that only they could understand. Aaron sneered and tossed his drinks back, standing up gruffly and walking after Nicky and Gillian. Andrew made no expression, but moved a tray full of drinks in between Kevin and Adam.

“You,” Andrew said, pointing at Adam, “are going to match Kevin drink for drink.”

Adam side eyed Kevin, three empty shot glasses already in front of him and a glass of something orange in his hand. 

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Adam said.

“It does sound like a recipe for alcohol poisoning.” Neil said. “He’s not used to drinking. He’s probably about 160 pounds, though, so three strong drinks would probably do him in.”

Andrew turned to Neil and blinked. Neil raised an eyebrow. Adam held his breath. This was the crux of his night; whoever won their silent war would decide if Adam was throwing up later. It made Adam itch, watching his fate be decided in front of him, like he wasn’t there. Bass pulsed through his skin, lights flashed, and Adam Parrish was suddenly a caged animal inside of it all. He’d let this happen to himself, let someone take him and tell him what to do. For all that Adam had done his whole life to run towards freedom and a real future, he always seemed to find himself in a new trap. Andrew was trying to lock him in, turn him into a fixed variable; Neil, on the other hand, wanted to unlock him entirely and see what would happen. Only one of them could turn the key.

Neil, maintaining eye contact with Andrew, moved a shot and two smaller glasses in front of Adam. 

“500%.” Andrew snapped. Neil’s eyebrows shot up.

"That’s a jump.”

“Move over.” Neil moved further in the booth next to Adam, and Andrew slid in next to him. He picked a small glass from the drink tray and crossed his arms, refusing to look at Neil, who was watching him with amused fondness. Adam looked at the drinks in front of him.

“What’s in these?” Adam asked.

“Alcohol.” Andrew said. 

“Thanks, genius. What kind?”

“The shot is whipped cream vodka, middle is a double of whiskey, end is a fuzzy navel. It is peach schnapps, orange juice, and vodka.” Andrew rattled off. “Start with the shot, then the navel, finish with the whiskey.”

Adam stared at the drinks.

“Shut up and drink.” Andrew commanded.

“I didn’t say anything.” Adam said.

“You are thinking far too loudly. It is giving me a migraine just looking at you.”

“So look away?” Adam suggested. Andrew only stared at him in response, blinking owlishly. Neil leaned closer to him so he could be heard over the music. Adam turned his head so his hearing ear was closer to Neil.

“I held up my end of the bargain.” Neil said. “Andrew wont let you hurt anyone. Your turn.”

The words chilled Adam. Neil had the key; what happened when he opened the cage was anybody’s guess. If Adam was a bomb in waiting, a chip off the old Parrish block, then it was Neil’s fault entirely if he went off.

Adam took out his keys and phone, handed them to Neil, and began to drink.

* * *

Lights were funny things. They were just photons, reflections, and could be changed into whatever color or intensity the controller wanted. Staring into lights was a bad idea, it could blind a person, but Adam was entranced by the rhythmic flashing. The world was fuzzy, but the lights were constant and changing and beautiful. Someone snapped in front of his face.

“Drink.” Oh, a cup. Adam did feel thirsty. The drink was blue- Blue, he missed her. Would her hair reflect all the flashing, colorful lights? Would they bounce off her hair clips? Adam sipped the drink. It was very sweet, which was not like Blue at all. Adam snorted and felt some of the liquid dribble down his chin.

“Oh, fuck-” He started. A hand reached out to take the drink from him before he could spill it while reaching for a napkin. Adam’s arms felt...wiggly? He managed to wipe his chin off, though. He wasn’t an animal. Where did that sweet drink go?

The cup was placed back in front of him, and Adam followed the hand holding it up to the small blonde man sitting across from him. He had big eyes. The inky blackness of them reflected the lights and Adam could’ve watched them dance in his eyes for hours.

“Parrish.” The man said.

“Huh?” Adam replied.

“Tell me something. You were so convinced you would be a danger to yourself and others if you drank, and yet you have been rocking back and forth and watching everything for the past hour. What makes you think this is so dangerous? The lack of control? What are you trying to control? What have you done, Adam Parrish?”

Adam pondered the question- the only part of what the man said that actually processed in his brain. The rest was soup. 

What _had_ he done?

“Can I get a definition?” He asked. The big eyes across from him rolled. Adam took another sip of his sweet blue drink. It was really very good.

“Alright. So you are a useless drunk. We have officially learned at least one thing about Adam Parrish. I will go more slowly for you. Have you ever physically harmed someone?”

Adam frowned. “Ronan….” Adam missed him intensely all of a sudden.

“Ronan? You’ve hurt your boyfriend?” Adam shook his head.

“It wasn’t- I couldn’t stop it. It made me.”

“What made you?”

“The thing. From the- Greenmantle. Her demon. Made me. Had to tie me up.” Adam slumped his head into his hand. He didn’t like thinking about the demon, about hurting Ronan and Gansey dying. He found that his focus lessened when he drank his blue drink, though, so he began to drink it in earnest.

“Who is Greenmantle?”

“A shitbag.”

“Try again.”

“Mm-nuh.”

“Have it your way. New question: have you ever killed someone?”

Adam furrowed his brows. Had he killed someone? Technically he could have stopped Whelk from being trampled, and a part of him knew he’d really wanted it to happen and felt like Cabeswater had responded to that desire...

“Can I phone a friend?” He asked. His mouth felt weird though. For some reason his tongue had become incapable of sitting right inside his mouth and it was very distracting. Maybe the blue drink would help his tongue find its place. If it couldn’t be in Ronan’s mouth right now, then it needed to settle right down. Fingers snapped in front of his face again.

“Wuh?”

“Andrew, he’s piss drunk. I really don’t think you’re going to get much else out of him.” Someone said. Adam couldn’t quite focus on where the voice was coming from. He couldn’t quite focus on much of anything. It was making him very dizzy.

“That was an ominous and completely bullshit answer to being asked if you have killed someone.”

“So follow up on it later. You said it yourself, he’s a useless drunk. I thought you didn’t do pointless things?”

“You are pointless.”

“Ah, I stand corrected.”

Adam closed his eyes.

* * *

Adam opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it.

Everything in his brain hurt. He was fairly certain the actual muscle of his brain was beating itself against his skull. He stretched, only to nearly fall off the bed. It was enough to jolt him into a little more consciousness.

First of all, he was not on a bed; Adam was lying on a couch in an unfamiliar house, wearing his clothes from the night before. He heard a light snore from the ground beside him. Gillian was in a sleeping bag, curled up next to the couch. 

The smell of coffee was the next thing to wake his senses. His stomach made a truly horrendous sound. Adam painstakingly sat up and got to his feet, careful to avoid stepping on Gillian and waking her. He stretched, feeling the sweet relief of his shoulders and neck popping. He turned to follow the scent of the coffee, and was met with Neil and Andrew’s stares from the kitchen.

“He lives.” Andrew said blandly.

“Morning.” Neil said. “Coffee?”

Adam made to nod, then decided against it. He didn’t think his brain would appreciate more rattling.

“Yes, please.” He said, wiping the crust from his eyes and walking to sit at the kitchen table. Standing was a lot of effort.

“Do not say that word.” Adam looked up and squinted at Andrew.

“What? Yes or please?”

“The second one. It is meaningless. Do not say it.” Andrew said. Adam sighed.

“Whatever. Where am I?”

“Columbia.” 

“This is the cousins’ house.” Neil said, handing Adam a cup of fresh coffee. He set it on the table in front of him.

“Thanks. When the fuck did we get here?” Adam asked.

“Around one in the morning. You and Kevin were both passed out, so it was better to make our retreat with people who could help carry you.” Neil said casually. Adam tensed and looked up at Neil.

“I passed out?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, shrugging, “You were pretty zoned out. Didn’t really make too much sense. Mostly you just rocked back and forth and looked around a lot.”

“...That’s it?” Adam asked carefully. 

“That’s it.” Neil grinned at him. “You stared at the lights, said...words, I assume. They were certainly words, at the very least. You and Kevin figured out some secret language only drunk people know because at one point I think you two were having a full conversation. Then you both passed out and we carried your asses to the cars. I drove yours, just so you know. It’s still in one piece.”

Adam looked down at his coffee. He felt...hollow was the closest word, perhaps. But in a good way. Like this expectation that had filled him up, choked him for so long with fear and loathing, and suddenly up and walked out. Adam Parrish was a zoned out, lazy, mumbly drunk. No one had gotten hurt, no one had died, no one was looking at him with fear or apprehension. He had relinquished control for a night, and he was still alive. 

Adam took a slow, deep breath. The smell of coffee flooded around him, and he welcomed the warmth. It soothed his aching body and quelled the thundering of his head. He breathed out and his tense muscles released their hold. He could let go a little bit, maybe. He’d lived.

Gazing into his coffee, Adam watched the little waves in the liquid reflect the morning sun. Swirls of discoloration curled in the dark brown sea, beckoning him, and he traced them with his eyes. His next inhale was a mix of coffee and salt, like the ocean was right there in his cup, deep and endless. It was intoxicating. He had let go; he was capable of letting go.

The waves tugged at him.

Adam let himself go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooh boy! Adam sure do be starin into lights and liquids, huh! what a normal thing thats not dangerous at all to him, a normal human person.
> 
> I didn't plan on including the bit at Sweetie's, but it is now incredibly important to me and so, so stupid. i lost braincells writing that exchange. and i loved every moment of it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a beautiful morning in Columbia, and Andrew Minyard is about to have a rough day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise Andrew pov! this was so interesting to write and delve into. thinking like Andrew is wild.

“I’m making eggs. You want any?” Neil asked. Andrew watched as he scooped a generous spoonful of butter into the frying pan. Andrew hummed in response. He saw the corner of Neil’s mouth tick up as he took out three more eggs for him. If there was one thing Andrew would admit to actually liking about this whole godawful situation he’d found himself in, it was that Josten was quick to pick up on his body language and nonverbal responses. Sometimes Andrew just didn’t feel like using any fucking words, and good luck and godspeed to anyone trying to communicate with him. But Neil heard him, always heard him. Always listening for Andrew.

“Adam,” Neil called back, “Eggs?”

Andrew glanced over at Parrish. He wasn’t the strangest character Andrew had ever encountered, but there was something about him that had itched at Andrew ever since he’d run in front of him at that prissy private school up in Dirt Hole, Virginia. The way he’d reacted to Neil’s little ‘second chances’ speech, for example. No one should relate to Neil’s earnestness over second chances, starting a new life. Neil meant it literally when he said it; if that had resonated with Parrish so much, there was obviously something deeply wrong with him. Andrew had spent the past month trying to figure out what that was. Unfortunately, not only was Andrew faced with contradiction after contradiction, but while he’d been investigating him the bastard had managed to charm not only Nicky but Neil and Aaron as well. That’d been a surprise. Nicky was easy and Neil was a sucker for kicked dogs, but Aaron had been unexpected. He hadn’t given Andrew a reason, just marched into his dorm and announced that he wasn’t going to participate in anything that would put Parrish in danger. Kevin had questioned when he’d started caring about other people, and Aaron had told him where to shove his exy racquet, and then he’d left. 

Needless to say, the rate at which the people around him were falling for Adam Parrish was alarming, and Andrew had needed to act fast. Getting the kid drunk was easy enough once he’d been worn down by the infuriating and oppressive force that was Neil Josten believing in you. What coherent information they got out of him, though, was strange. Adam said he’d been forced to hurt his boyfriend by something controlled by someone called Greenmantle. It could’ve been a metaphorical ‘it’, meaning a person who was so inhumane they barely registered as a human anymore. He’d called it a demon. It made sense. What didn’t make sense was Parrish’s hesitation to say whether or not he’d ever killed someone. That was a red fucking flag if Andrew had ever seen one, and he was going to dig into that sooner than later.

“Adam?” Neil was looking at Parrish now, brows furrowed. Parrish was still hunched over his coffee cup, looking down into it as he had been for the past 3 minutes. Andrew pushed off the counter and snapped in his face to drag him out of the dissociative state.

Parrish didn’t react. Andrew scowled.

“Parrish, you are being spoken to. Pause whatever is so fascinating in your coffee and respond.”

Parrish did not respond. He didn’t even twitch. A sick chill began to worm its way up Andrew’s spine. He grabbed Parrish by the hair and pulled his head back. Andrew’s breath died in his lungs.

Parrish’s eyes, normally a pitiful deep blue, were unfocused and partially clouded over. His jaw was slack. He didn’t look like he was breathing. Andrew quickly felt his neck for a pulse. Parrish couldn’t die. This wasn’t part of the plan. He’d let Andrew take him under his protection last night, and that extended to now, so Parrish could not die. 

“That’s not where you feel for a pulse.” Neil said, coming up behind Andrew. He put two fingers under the hinge of Parrish’s jaw and paused. Andrew waited.

“He’s alive,” Neil said, “It’s faint, but he’s alive. Adam? Adam.” Andrew took a step back and watched as Neil turned Parrish’s face left and right, inspecting his eyes, and then slapped him.

Nothing.

“What’s going on?” Bacay had woken now. She’d refused to leave Parrish’s side when they’d gotten home, said something about making sure he didn’t throw up in his sleep and choke and die. Andrew was fairly certain that was just an excuse so she could stay near the one man in this house she knew the best. He couldn’t fault her paranoia. He was going to need to get her some knives at some point, though.

Neil looked at Andrew. _What do we say?_

Andrew blinked at him. _The truth._

“Adam was looking at his coffee and zoned out, possibly just dissociated, but we can’t wake him up.” Neil said evenly. It was a mild version of events, certainly. Andrew’s gaze kept tugging back to Parrish’s eyes. They weren’t whited out, just slightly clouded, like a thick fog in the spring. The deep blue of his eyes could just barely be made out behind it all. They were totally unseeing, unblinking- tears had started forming and trailing down the man’s cheeks in an effort to keep his eyes wet. He was frozen.

Bacay rushed forward to Parrish’s other side. She took his face in her hands and Andrew saw the goosebumps rise on her arms the moment she looked into his eyes.

“Adam, what the _fuck?_ ” She whispered. Then, louder, “Adam! Adam, wake up! Come back, come on, wake up!”

“That is his deaf ear.” Andrew said. Bacay looked up at him with wild eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her. If she was going to try to yell him awake, the least she could do was scream into the ear that would actually hear it. 

The door to Nicky’s room opened. A small bead of dread that Andrew told himself was more annoyance than anything else found its way into his chest.

“What the fuck are y’all yelling about?” Aaron grumbled. He’d obviously just woken up; he never spoke like he was actually raised in South Carolina unless he was exhausted or piss drunk. 

“Something’s wrong with Adam!” Bacay said. The terror was starting to seep into her voice. This was exactly what Andrew did not need. The more anxious and scared someone got, the more prone they were to making some really stupid decisions. For example, Bacay had just told Aaron that something was wrong with Adam Parrish after he had been given a cup of coffee by Andrew and Neil. That was a stupid decision, because now his brother was looking at him with murder in his eyes. 

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked, which, to be fair, was a logical assumption to jump to. Andrew _had_ been planning on having Roland drop the drugs in Parrish’s drinks last night. Neil had been adamantly against it, though, and unfortunately Andrew had a tendency to compromise around the idiot. It was a habit he was trying to break. Andrew leveled a stare at his brother.

“We didn’t do anything.” Neil snapped. “I gave him a cup of coffee, that’s it. I don’t think he even drank any of it. We just found him like this.” Aaron glared at him and pushed Bacay to the side, taking a close look at Parrish’s face. He held his eyelids further open, then jumped back like he’d been burned.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” Aaron spat. He was looking at Parrish in horror, and that didn’t do anything helpful for Andrew. 

“What?” Andrew asked. 

“It, it,” Aaron stammered, “The film! It’s fucking moving!”

_What?_

_“SQUASH ONE, SQUASH TWO-”_ Parrish’s obnoxious ringtone cut through the room. Andrew snatched it from it’s spot on the counter where he’d left it the night before. It was Parrish’s boyfriend, probably checking in to see if he was still alive after last night. This was as good a place to start as any; if anyone would know what was wrong with Parrish, if it had happened before, it would be this guy. Andrew answered the phone.

“Adam Parrish’s phone, he is currently disposed at the moment, can I take a message?”

_“Who the fuck is this?”_

“A teammate.”

_“Where is Adam?”_

“At my kitchen table, unresponsive and staring into nothing. You would not happen to know anything about that, now would you?”

_“Fuck. Fuck! How long has he been under?”_

Andrew glanced at the clock on the wall. It was shaped like a fish. Nicky thought it was cute. “About six minutes, nearing seven.” The other line was another slew of curses.

_“He’s not responding? Have you tried slapping him?”_

“We could always slap him again.” Andrew said, and nodded to Neil. Neil nodded back, and slapped Parrish again- backhanded. 

Nothing.

“Experiment number two is a failure. Next option.”

_“Put me on speaker.”_

Andrew put the phone on speaker and held it near Parrish’s right ear.

_“Adam, listen to me. Wake up. Follow my voice. Come back. Come back, goddammit.”_

The voice was commanding and clear, and not enough to draw even a twitch from the man. 

“He’s not waking up.” Neil said. Andrew caught the undercurrent of sadness already coating his words. His face was stone, eyes searching all over Parrish methodically for one movement, any proof he was coming back. Neil, it seemed, was preparing for Adam Parrish to not wake up again.

_“Adam, you son of a bitch- cut him.”_

“What?” Aaron cut in.

_“Cut his arm. The pain should bring him back to his body. It’s got to.”_

Andrew didn’t have to be told twice.

Neil immediately took the phone from Andrew, and Andrew hated him for it. He hated that he didn’t even need to be told, he just knew what Andrew was going to do and moved to work alongside him. It made Andrew seethe. He flicked a knife out of one of his armbands, grabbed Parrish’s forearm, and made a slice in a motion and with an exact pressure he hadn’t done in many years. He vaguely heard Aaron yell at him, but he didn’t matter right now.

Parrish gasped. His chest began heaving rapidly, and he blinked his eyes, looking around dumbly at his little crowd. 

“Wh- ow, shit!” He hissed, pulling his cut arm close to his chest. 

_“Adam?!”_

“Ronan?” Parrish turned to the phone in Neil’s hands, eyes wide. Andrew was nearly shaking with adrenaline. He was awake; good. Now he needed answers.

“What in the fuck was that?” He asked.

“I-” Parrish started, but was cut off.

_“Call Gansey. You’re not gonna make any sense, you just came out of a nearly ten minute scry. I’m on my way down.”_

“Ronan-” Parrish made to tell him to stay, to not bother, that he wasn’t worth the effort of his boyfriend coming down to check on him; Andrew could see the man starting to curl in on himself. _I’m fine,_ Andrew thought bitterly.

_“Shut the fuck up with whatever dumb shit you’re about to say. I’ll be there in three hours. Call Gansey.”_

“...It’s a five hour drive.” Parrish said softly.

_“My bad, I’ll be there in two.”_

The corner of Parrish’s mouth quirked up. This guy was a smartass, apparently. Andrew understood why Parrish had taken to Neil so quickly.

“Drive safe.”

_“Don’t tell me what to do.”_

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll see you in two hours.”

_“And try not to die before I get there. I know that can be hard to do, but I’d appreciate the effort.”_

_Oh_ , Andrew thought, _and doesn’t that sound familiar?_ He could feel Neil’s eyes on him. He refused to look back on principle. 

“I’ll see what I can do. Tamquam.”

_“Alter idem.”_

The call ended. Parrish held out his uninjured arm for his phone.

“I have another call to make.”

“Adam, what the hell?” Bacay said softly. She was speaking for all of them in that moment. Parrish sighed. Neil gave him his phone.

“In one sentence,” Andrew said, “What just happened, and what are you about to drag us into?”

Parrish looked him dead in the eyes as he dialed.

“I accidentally left my body and went somewhere else, because I am a psychic and magic is real.” He said.

“Okay, now what actually happened?” Aaron asked. Parrish met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. The other end of the phone picked up. The voice was smooth and bright, and just tinged with an accent that made Andrew think of old southern money.

_“Adam! Did Ronan call you? He said Lindenmere was going crazy.”_

“Yeah. That was me, I think. I accidentally scried on….something.”

_“Oh my god, are you alright? You were able to get yourself out okay?”_

“I’m fine.” Parrish said. Andrew felt his lip curl in reflexive disgust. Aaron’s face fell and he looked at Neil, who at least had the decency to look concerned. Andrew didn’t believe in karma, but the universe sometimes made a compelling argument for it. _Cosmic retribution, Josten._ Parrish continued, unaware of the pavlovian response he’d just incurred. “But some of my teammates saw. Ronan had to tell them to cut me to get me out.”

In the chaos of getting Parrish back, it seemed like everyone had forgotten about the open wound on his arm. Andrew pushed past Neil and ran up the stairs to grab the first aid kit out of his bathroom while Neil grabbed a dish towel and Aaron started putting pressure on the wound. Neil took the box and kneeled next to Parrish. He batted Aaron’s hands out of the way to look at the cut.

“It’s not going to need stitches,” He decided, “Just some gauze and a wrap should be fine.” Neil fell into the role seamlessly, cleaning and bandaging Parrish’s arm like it was second nature. It had been second nature for him, in another life. It had to be. Andrew watched Neil’s hands as they went through the motions, steady and skilled. Andrew hated him.

_“How many people are there?”_ The voice on the phone asked.

“Four.” Parrish replied. He looked deflated, like his energy had just been sapped. _Maybe it had,_ a voice in Andrew’s mind said. _Maybe he really did leave his body. Maybe that took all of his power. Maybe he is psychic._ Andrew grit his teeth and began mentally hunting that voice down with a machete. Magic was not real. Sunrise was real; Death was real; Neil Abram Josten was _real_ . Whatever this was, it was _not_ magic, because magic was not _real._

_“Excellent. Well, everyone, My name is Richard Campbell Gansey the Third. What do you know about Welsh kings?”_

* * *

Andrew slammed the door to his room closed. 

Magic was real.

There was a chair at his desk. He threw it. 

Magic was real.

He ran his hands through his hair and started to pull.

_Magic was real._

Magic was real, and out there, and wild and dangerous. Magic was real and there were people out there who could use it, who hunted it down and collected it and would kill for it. Magic was real, and it’s name was Adam Parrish, who was sitting in his kitchen with his brother and his boyfriend, ordering McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches on UberEats because no one felt like cooking or driving at the moment because they had just been told by some asshole from Virginia that _magic was real._

Andrew backed up against a wall and knocked his head back, sliding down to the floor. What was he supposed to do with this? He could fight the mafia. He could throw out his brother’s drugs and beat people off of his cousin. He could drag his best friend’s drunk ass home night after night, and he could buy as many knives as he liked. But Andrew had the sinking suspicion that he could not stab magic. He could not threaten leylines into submission, and he could not intimidate a dream forest. 

There was a magical artifact trade, apparently, and people who tracked down said artifacts, including people, to put them into collections. What if they tracked Parrish down to the Foxhole? What kind of weapons would they have on them, or would they just use some random bullshit magic powers that could explode someone’s internal organs with a snap of their fingers? 

How was Andrew supposed to protect his family against that?

“Andrew?” He hadn’t noticed Neil opening the door. He barely noticed him now, too busy rolling through scenario after scenario of _what if?_ What if magic came? What if people got hurt? What if he could do nothing but watch as it tore through them-

“Andrew, yes or no?” Neil was kneeling in front of him, hands hovering over Andrew’s knees. Andrew looked at his eyes, and he hated how blue they were. No one’s eyes should be that bright and blue and big. It made him feel sick.

“Yes.” He said. Neil slowly put his hands on top of Andrew’s in his hair.

“I’m going to unclench your hands, yes or no?”

“Yes.” Andrew let Neil uncurl his fingers from his hair, the pressure slowly letting up. He hadn’t realized how tight he was pulling. Neil held his hands between them. He was too far away, Andrew’s knees a barricade between them; he was too close, Andrew was going to shake apart and catch him in the blast. He wanted to pull him in. He wanted to punch him in the face.

“When Adam’s boyfriend gets to campus, I’m going to ask him about protection against this shit.” Neil said softly. “We’re going to figure it out.”

Once again, he hadn’t needed to say a word for Neil to know exactly what he was thinking. It made him furious. How did he do it? How could Neil Josten, liar of liars, look at Andrew and instantly find truths? If he squeezed Neil’s hands tighter, it was only out of frustration. Andrew blinked slowly at him.

“I got you two McGriddles. Those are the ones with the maple syrup and pancakes as the buns, right?” Neil asked.

Right. It was just frustration.

Pure hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man i just really love these guys so much
> 
> if anyone's interested, i have a playlist that i made and listen to when im writing this fic!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6eZsi22zcjB10UQZDioFga?si=nodJWXJKS8mLFjv0oqNnWA


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